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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


i 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


FORT    LAFAYETTE; 


OB, 


LOVE  AND  SECESSION, 


%   fffW, 


BY    BENJAMIN    WOOD 


NEW    YORK: 

Carleto%  Publisher^  413  Broadway^ 

(LATE,   RUDD   &   CARLETON). 
MDCCCLXII. 


Entkbkp  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  ISGS,  by 
G.    W.    CARLETON, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  DUtrict  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


W.  H.  TissoK,  Stereotyper, 


R.  Craighead,  Printer 


Whom  they  please  they  lay  in  basest  bonds." 

Venice  Preserved, 


"  O,  beauteous  Peace ! 
Sweet  union  of  a  state !  what  else  but  thou 
Gives  safety,  strength,  and  glory  to  a  people  ?" 

Thomson, 

"  Oh,  Peace  !  thou  source  and  soul  of  social  hfe ; 
Beneath  whose  calm  inspiring  influence. 
Science  his  views  enlarges,  art  refines. 
And  sweUing  commerce  opens  all  her  ports ; 
Blest  be  the  man  divine,  who  gives  us  thee !" 

Thomson, 

"  A  peace  is  of  the  nature  of  a  conquest ; 
For  then  both  parties  nobly  are  subdued. 
And  neither  party  loser." 

Shakspeare, 


603324 


FORT   LAFAYETTE; 

OR, 

LOVE     AND     SECESSION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

There  is  a  pleasant  villa  on  the  soiitliern  bank 
of  the  James  River,  a  few  miles  below  the  city 
of  Richmond.  The  family  mansion,  an  old 
fashioned  building  of  white  stone,  surrounded 
by  a  spacious  veranda,  and  embowered  among 
stately  elms  and  grave  old  oaks,  is  sure  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  traveller  by  its  pic- 
turesque appearance,  and  the  dreamy  elegance 
and  air  of  comfort  that  pervade  the  spot.  The 
volumes  of  smoke  that  roll  from  the  tall  chim- 
neys, the  wide  portals  of  the  hall,  flung  open  as 
if  for  a  sign  of  welcome,  the  merry  chat  and 


8  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

cheerful  faces  of  the  sable  hoiisehokl,  lazily 
alternating  their  domestic  labors  with  a  sly 
romp  or  a  lounge  in  some  quiet  nook,  these  and 
other  traits  of  the  old  Yirginia  home,  complete 
the  picture  of  hospitable  affluence  which  the 
stranger  instinctively  draws  as  his  gaze  lingers 
on  the  grateful  scene.  The  house  stands  on  a 
wooded  knoll,  within  a  bowshot  of  the  river 
bank,  and  from  the  steps  of  the  back  veranda, 
where  creeping  flowers  form  a  perfumed  net- 
work of  a  thousand  hues,  the  velvety  iawn 
shelves  gracefully  down  to  the  water's  edge. 

Toward  sunset  of  one  of  the  early  days  of 
April,  1861,  a  young  girl  stood  leaning  upon 
the  wicket  of  a  fence  which  separated  the 
garden  from  the  highway.  She  stood  there 
dreamily  gazing  along  the  road,  as  if  awaiting 
the  approach  of  some  one  who  would  be  welcome 
when  he  came.  The  slanting  rays  of  the  de- 
clining sun  glanced  through  the  honeysuckles 
and  tendrils  that  intertwined  among  the  white 
palings,  and  thi-ew  a  subdued  light  upon  her 
face.  It  was  a  face  that  was  beautiful  in  repose, 
but  that  promised  to  be  more  beautiful  when 
awakened  into  animation.     The  large,  grey  eyes 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  9 

were  half  veiled  with  their  black  lashes  at  that 
moment,  and   their   expression  was   thoughtful 
and  subdued ;  but  ever  as  the  lids  were  raised, 
when  some  distant  sound  arrested  her  attention, 
the  expression  changed  with  a  sudden  flash,  and 
a  gleam  like  an  electric  fire  darted  from  the 
glowing   orbs.      Her  features  were   small   and 
delicately  cut,  the  nostrils  thin  and  firm,  and 
the  lips   most   exquisitely  molded,  but  in  the 
severe  chiselling  of  their  arched  lines  betraying 
a  somewhat  passionate  and  haughty  nature.   But 
the  rose  tint  was  so  warm  upon  her  cheek,  the 
raven  hair  clustered  with  such  luxuriant  grace 
about  her  brows,  and  the  :petite  and  lithe  figure 
was   so   symmetrical   at   every  point,  that    the 
impression  of  haughtiness  was  lost  in  the  con- 
templation of  so  many  charms. 

Oriana  Weems,  the  subject  of  our  sketch,  was 
an  orphan.  Her  father,  a  wealthy  Yirginian, 
died  while  his  daughter  was  yet  an  infant,  and 
her  mother,  who  had  been  almost  constantly  an 
invalid,  did  not  long  survive.  Oriana  and  her 
brother,  Beverly,  her  senior  by  two  years,  had 
thus  been  left  at  an  early  age  in  the  charge  of 
their  mother's  sister,  a  maiden  lady  oi  excellent 


10  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

heart  and  quiet  disposition,  wlio  certainly  had 
most  conscientiously  fulfilled  tlie  sacred  trust. 
Oriana  had  returned  but  a  twelvemonth  before 
from  a  northern  seminary,  where  she  had  gath- 
ered up  more  accomplishments  than  she  would 
ever  be  likely  to  make  use  of  in  the  old  home- 
stead ;  while  Beverly,  having  graduated  at  Yale 
the  preceding  month,  had  written  to  his  sister 
that  she  might  expect  him  that  very  day,  in 
company  with  his  classmate  and  friend,  Arthur 
Wayne. 

She  stood,  therefore,  at  the  wicket,  gazing 
down  the  road,  in  expectation  of  catching  the 
first  glimpse  of  her  brother  and  his  friend,  for 
whom  horses  had  been  sent  to  Richmond,  to 
await  their  arrival  at  the  depot.  So  much  was 
she  absorbed  in  revery,  that  she  failed  to  ob- 
serve a  solitary  horseman  who  approached  from 
the  opposite  direction.  He  plodded  leisurely 
along  until  within  a  few  feet  of  the  wicket, 
when  he  quietly  drew  rein  and  gazed  for  a  mo- 
ment in  silence  upon  the  unconscious  girl.  He 
was  a  tall,  gaunt  man,  with  stooping  shoulders, 
angular  features,  lank,  black  hair  and  a  sinister 
expression,  in  which  cunning  and  malice  com- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  H 

bined.  He  finally  urged  his  horse  a  step  nearer, 
and  as  softly  as  his  rough  voice  wouM  admit,  he 
bade  :  "  Good  evening,  Miss  Oriana." 

She  started,  and  turned  with  a  suddenness 
that  caused  the  animal  he  rode  to  swerve.  Ec- 
covering  her  composure  as  suddenly,  she  slightly 
inclined  her  head  and  turning  from  him,  pro- 
ceeded toward  the  house. 

"  Stay,  Miss  Oriana,  if  you  please." 
She  paused  and  glanced  somewhat  haughtily 
over  her  shoulder. 

"  May  I  speak  a  word  with  you  ?" 
"  My  aunt,  sir,  is  within ;  if  you  have  busi- 
ness, I  will  inform  her  of  your  presence." 

"  My  business  is  with  you,  Miss  Weems,"  and, 
dismounting,  he  passed  through  the  gate  and 
stepped  quickly  to  her  side. 
"  Why  do  you  avoid  me  ?" 
Her  dark  eye  flashed  in  the  twilight,  and  she 
drew  her  slight  form  up  till  it  seemed  to  gain  a 
foot  in  height. 

"  We  do  not  seek  to  enlarge  our  social  circle, 

Mr.  Eawbon.     You  will  excuse  me  if  I  leave 

you  abruptly,  but  the  night  dew  begins  to  fall." 

She  moved  on,  but  he  followed  and  placed  his 


12  FOET    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

Land  gently  on  lier  arm.  She  shook  it  off  with 
more  of  fierceness  than  dignity,  and  the  man's 
eves  fairly  sought  the  ground  beneath  the  glance 
she  gave  him. 

"  You  know  that  I  love  you,"  he  said,  in  a 
hoarse  murmur,  "  and  that's  the  reason  you  treat 
me  like  a  dog." 

She  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  walked, 
as  if  she  heard  him  not,  along  the  garden  path. 
His  brow  darkened,  and  quickening  his  pace,  he 
stepped  rudely  before  her  and  blocked  the  way. 

"  Look  you.  Miss  Weems,  you  have  insulted 
me  with  your  proud  ways  time  and  time  again, 
and  I  have  borne  it  tamely,  because  I  loved 
you,  and  because  I've  sworn  that  I  shall  have 
you.  It's  that  puppy,  Harold  Hare,  that  has 
stepped  in  between  you  and  me.  Kow  mark 
you,"  and  he  raised  his  finger  threateningly, 
"  I  won't  be  so  meek  with  him  as  I've  been 
wdth  you." 

The  girl  shuddered  slightly,  but  recovering, 
walked  forward  with  a  step  so  stately  and  com- 
manding, that  Itawbon,  bold  and  angry  as  he 
was,  involuntarily  made  way  for  her,  and  she 
sprang  up  the  steps  of  the  veranda  and  passed 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  18 

into  the  liall.  He  stood  gazing  after  her  for  a 
moment,  nervously  switching  the  rosebush  at  his 
side  with  his  heavy  horsewhip ;  then,  with  a 
muttered  curse,  he  strode  hastily  away,  and 
leaping  upon  his  horse,  galloped  furiously  down 
the  road. 

Seth  Kawbon  was  a  native  of  Massachusetts, 
but  for  some  ten  years  previously  to  the  date  at 
which  our  tale  commences,  he  had  been  mostly 
a  resident  of  Richmond,  where  his  acuteness  and 
active  business  habits  had  enabled  him  to  accu- 
mulate an  independent  fortune.  His  wealth 
and  vigorous  progressive  spirit  had  given  him  a 
certain  degree  of  influence  among  the  middle 
classes  of  the  community,  but  his  uncouth  man- 
ner, and  a  suspicion  that  he  was  not  altogether 
free  from  the  degradation  of  slave-dealing,  had, 
to  his  great  mortification  and  in  spite  of  his 
persistent  efforts,  excluded  him  from  social 
intercourse  with  the  aristocracy  of  the  Old 
Dominion.  He  was  not  a  man,  however,  to 
give  way  to  obstacles,  and  with  characteristic 
vanity  and  self-reliance,  he  had,  shortly  after 
her  return  from  school,  greatly  astonished  the 
proud   Oriana  with  a  bold  declaration  of  love 


14  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

and  an  offer  of  his  hand  and  fortune.  Not 
intimidated  by  a  sharp  and  decidedly  ungra- 
cious refusal,  he  had  at  every  opportunity 
advocated  his  hopeless  suit,  and  with  so  much 
persistence  and  effrontery,  that  the  object  of  his 
unwelcome  passion  had  been  goaded  from  indif- 
ference to  repugnance  and  absolute  loathing. 
Harold  Hare,  whose  name  he  had  mentioned 
with  so  much  bitterness  in  the  course  of  the 
interview  we  have  represented,  was  a  young 
Khode  Islander,  who  had,  upon  her  brother's 
invitation,  sojourned  a  few  weeks  at  the  man- 
sion some  six  months  previously,  while  on  his 
way  to  engage  in  a  surveying  expedition  in 
Western  Virginia.  He  had  promised  to  return 
in  good  time,  to  join  Beverly  and  his  guest, 
Arthur  Wayne,  at  the  close  of  their  academic 
labors. 

A  few  moments  after  Kawbon's  angry  depar- 
ture, the  family  carriage  drove  rapidly  up  to 
the  hall  door,  and  the  next  instant  Beverly  was 
in  his  sister's  arms,  and  had  been  affectionately 
welcomed  by  his  old-fashioned,  kindly  looking 
aunt.-  As  he  turned  to  introduce  his  friend, 
Arthur,  the  latter  was  gazing  with  an  air  of 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSIOX.  '  15 

absent  admiration  upon  the  kindled  features  of 
Oriana.  The  two  young  men  were  of  the  same 
age,  apparently  about  one-and-twenty ;  but  in 
character  and  appearance  they  were  widely 
difierent.  Beverly  was,  in  countenance  and 
manner,  curiously  like  his  sister,  except  that  the 
features  were  bolder  and  more  strongly  marked. 
Arthur,  on  the  contrary,  was  delicate  in  feature 
almost  to  effeminacy.  His  brow  was  pale  and 
lofty,  and  above  the  auburn  locks  were  massed 
like  a  golden  coronet.  His  eyes  were  very  large 
and  blue,  with  a  peculiar  softness  and  sadness 
that  suited  well  the  expression  of  thoughtfulness 
and  repose  about  his  lips.  He  was  taller  than 
his  friend,  and  although  well-formed  and  grace- 
ful, was  slim  and  evidently  not  in  robust  health. 
His  voice,  as  he  spoke  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  introduction,  was  low  and  musical,  but 
touched  with  a  mournfulness  that  was  apparent 
even  in  the  few  words  of  conventional  courtesy 
that  he  pronounced. 

Having  thus  domiciliated  them  comfortably 
in  the  old  hall,  we  will  leave  them  to  recover 
from  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  to  taste  of 
the  i^lentiful  hospitalities  of  Eiverside  manor. 


IG  rORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTER    II. 

Eaely  in  the  fresli  April  morning,  the  party 
at  Riverside  manor  were  congregated  in  the 
hall,  doing  full  justice  to  Aunt  Nancy's  substan- 
tial breakfast. 

"  Oriana,"  said  Beverly,  as  he  paused  from 
demolishing  a  well-buttered  batter  cake,  and 
handed  his  cup  for  a  second  supply  of  the  fra- 
grant Mocha,  "I  will  leave  it  to  your  savow 
faille  to  transform  our  friend  Arthur  into  a 
thorough  southerner,  before  we  yield  him  back 
to  his  Green  Mountains.  He  is  already  half  a 
convert  to  our  institutions,  and  will  give  you  not 
half  so  much  trouble  as  that  obstinate  Harold 
Hare." 

She  slightly  colored  at  the  name,  but  quietly 
remarked : 

"  Mr.  Wayne  must  look  about  him  and  judge 
from  his  own  observation,  not  my  arguments. 
I  certainly  do  not  intend  to  annoy  him  during 
liis  visit,  with  political  discussions." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  17 

"  And  yet  you  drove  Harold  wild  with  your 
flaming  harangues,  and  gave  him  more  logic  in 
an  afternoon  ride  than  he  had  ever  been  bored 
with  in  Cambridge  in  a  month." 

"  Only  when  he  provoked  and  invited  the 
assault,"  she  replied,  smiling.  "But  I  trust, 
Mr.  Wayne,  that  the  cloud  which  is  gathering 
above  our  country  will  not  darken  the  sunshine 
of  your  visit  at  Eiverside  manor.  It  is  unfor- 
tunate that  you  should  have  come  at  an  unpro- 
pitious  moment,  when  we  cannot  promise  you 
that  perhaps  there  will  not  be  some  cold  looks 
here  and  there  among  the  townsfolk,  to  give  you 
a  false  impression  of  a  Yirginia  welcome." 

"  IS'ot  at  all,  Oriana  ;  Arthur  will  have  smiles 
and  welcome  enough  here  at  the  manor  house  to 
make  him  proof  against  all  the  hard  looks  in 
Richmond.  I  prevailed  on  him  to  come  at  all 
hazards,  and  we  are  bound  to  have  a  good  time 
and  don't  want  you  to  discourage  us ;  eh,  Ar- 
thur.?" 

''  I  am  but  little  of  a  politician.  Miss  Weems," 
said  Arthur,  "although  I  take  our  country's 
differences  much  at  heart.  I  shall  surely  not 
provoke   discussion   with   you,   like   our   friend 


18  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

Harold,  upon  an  unpleasant  subject,  while  you 
give  me  carte  hlanche  to  enjoy  your  conversa- 
tion upon  themes  more  congenial  to  my  nature." 

She  inclined  her  head  with  rather  more  of 
gravity  than  the  nature  of  the  conversation 
warranted,  and  her  lips  were  slightly  com- 
pressed as  she  observed  that  Arthur's  blue 
eyes  were  fixed  pensively,  but  intently,  on  her 
face. 

The  meal  being  over,  Oriana  and  "Wayne 
strolled  on  the  lawn  toward  the  river  bank, 
while  the  carriage  was  being  prepared  for  a 
morning  di'ive.  They  stood  on  the  soft  grass  at 
the  water's  edge,  and  as  Arthur  gazed  with  a 
glow  of  pleasm*e  at  the  beautiful  prospect 
before  him,  his  fair  companion  pointed  out  with 
evident  pride  the  many  objects  of  beauty  and 
interest  that  were  within  view  on  the  opj^osite 
bank. 

"  Are  you  a  sailor,  Mr.  Wayne  ?  If  so,  we 
must  have  out  the  boat  this  afternoon,  and  you 
will  find  some  fairy  nooks  beyond  the  bend 
that  will  repay  you  for  exploring  them,  if  you 
have  a  taste  for  a  lovely  waterscape.  I  know 
you  are  proud  of  the  grand  old  hills  of  your 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  19 

native  State,  but  we  have  Bomething  to  boast  of 
too  in  our  Virginia  scenery." 

"  K  you  will  be  my  helmswoman,  I  can 
imagine  nothing  more  delightful  than  the  ex- 
cui'sion  you  propose.  But  I  am  inland  bred, 
and  must  place  myself  at  the  mercy  of  your 
nautical  experience." 

"Oh,  I  am  a  skillful  captain,  Mr.  Wayne, 
and  will  make  a  good  sailor  of  you  before  you 
leave  us.  Mr.  Hare  will  tell  you  that  I  am  to 
be  trusted  with  the  helm,  even  when  the  wind 
blows  right  smartly,  as  it  sometimes  does  even 
on  that  now  placid  stream.  But  with  his 
memories  of  the  magnificent  Hudson,  he  was 
too  prone  to  quiz  me  about  what  he  called  our 
pretty  rivulet.     You  know  him,  do  you  not  ?" 

"  Oh,  well.  He  was  Beverly's  college-mate 
and  mine,  though  somewhat  our  senior." 

"  And  your  warm  friend,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  well  worthy  our  friendship.  Some- 
what high-tempered  and  quick-spoken,  but  with 
a  heart — ^like  your  brother's,  Miss  "Weems,  as 
generous  and  frank  as  a  summer  day." 

"I  do  not  tliink  him  high-tempered  beyond 
the  requisites  of  manhood,"   she  replied,  with 


20  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

sometliing  like  asperity  in  her  tone.  "  I  cannot 
endure  your  meek,  mild  mannered  men,  who 
seem  to  forget  their  sex,  and  almost  make  me 
long  to  change  my  own  with  them,  that  their 
sweet  dispositions  may  be  better  placed." 

He  glanced  at  her  with  a  somewhat  sui-prised 
air,  that  brought  a  slight  blush  to  her  cheek ; 
but  he  seemed  unconscious  of  it,  and  said,  almost 
mechanically  : 

"  And  yet,  that  same  high  spirit,  which  you 
prize  so  dearly,  had,  in  his  case,  almost  caused 
you  a  severe  affliction." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Have  you  not  heard  how  curiously  Beverly's 
intimacy  with  Harold  was  brought  about  ? 
And  yet  it  was  not  likely  that  he  should  have 
told  you,  although  I  know  no  harm  in  letting 
you  know." 

She  turned  toward  him  with  an  air  of  atten- 
tion, as  if  in  expectation. 

"  It  was  simply  this.  ]N'ot  being  class-mates, 
they  had  been  almost  strangers  to  each  other  at 
college,  until,  by  a  mere  accident,  an  argument 
respecting  your  Southern  institutions  led  to  an 
angry  dispute,  and  harsh  words  passed  between 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  22 

tliem.  Being  both  of  the  ardent  temperament 
jon  so  much  admire,  a  challenge  ensued,  and, 
in  spite  of  my  entreaty  and  remonstrance,  a 
duel.  Your  brother  was  seriously  wounded, 
and  Harold,  shocked  beyond  expression,  knelt 
by  his  side  as  he  lay  bleeding  on  the  sward,  and 
bitterly  accusing  himself,  begged  his  forgive- 
ness, and,  I  need  not  add,  received  it  frankly. 
Harold  was  unremitting  in  his  attentions  to 
your  brother  during  the  period  of  his  illness, 
and  from  the  day  of  that  hostile  meeting,  the 
most  devoted  friendship  has  existed  between 
them.  But  it  was  an  idle  quarrel.  Miss  Weems, 
and  was  near  to  have  cost  you  an  only  brother." 

She  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and 
was  evidently  affected  by  the  recital.  Then  she 
spoke,  softly  as  if  communing  with  herself : 
"  Harold  is  a  brave  and  noble  fellow,  and  I 
thank  God  that  he  did*  not  kill  my  brother!" 
and  a  bright  tear  rolled  upon  her  cheek.  She 
dashed  it  away,  almost  angrily,  and  glancing 
steadily  at  Arthur : 
^Do  you  condemn  duelling?" 

"  Assuredly." 

"But  what  would  you  have  men  do  in  the 


22  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

face  of  insult?  "Would  you  not  have  fought 
under  the  same  provocation  ?" 

"  JS'o,  nor  under  any  provocation.  I  hold  too 
sacred  the  life  that  God  has  given.  With 
God's  helj),  I  shall  not  shed  human  blood,  ex- 
cept in  the  strict  line  of  necessity  and  duty." 

"It  is  evident,  sir,  that  you  hold  youi*  own 
life  most  sacred,"  she  said,  with  a  curl  of  her 
proud  lip  that  was  unmistakable. 

She  did  not  observe  the  pallor  that  over- 
spread his  features,  nor  the  expression,  not  of 
anger,  but  of  anguish,  that  settled  upon  his 
face,  for  she  had  turned  half  away  from  him, 
and  was  gazing  vacantly  across  the  river. 
There  was  an  unpleasant  pause,  which  was 
broken  by  the  noise  of  voices  in  alarm  near 
the  house,  the  trampling  of  hoofs,  and  the  rattle 
of  wheels. 

The  carriage  had  been  standing  at  the  door, 
while  Beverly  was  arranging  some  casual  busi- 
ness, which  delayed  him  in  his  rooms.  "While  the 
attention  of  the  groom  in  charge  had  been  at- 
racted  by  some  freak  of  his  companions,  a  nftle 
black  urchin,  not  over  five  years  of  age,  had 
clambered  unnoticed  into  the  vehicle^  and  seizing 


r 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  23 

the  long  whip,  began  to  flourish  it  about  with 
all  his  baby  strength.     The  horses,  which  were 
high  bred  and  spirited,  had  become  impatient, 
and  feeling  the  lash,  started  suddenly,  jerking 
themselves  free  from  the  careless  grasp  of  the 
inattentive  groom.     The  sudden  shout  of  sur- 
prise and  terror  that  arose  from  the  group  of 
idle  negroes,  startled  the  animals  into  a  gallop, 
and  they  went  coursing,  not   along   the  road, 
but  upon  the  lawn,  straight  toward  the  river 
bank,  which,  in  the  line  of  their  course,  was 
precipitous  and  rocky.     As  Oriana  and  Arthur 
turned  at  the  sound,  they  beheld  the  frightened 
steeds  plunging  across  the  lawn,  and  upon  the 
carriage  seat   the  little  fellow  who  had  caused 
the    miscMpf  was    crouching    bewildered   and 
helpless,  j|^d  screaming  with  affright.     Oriana 
clasped  her  hands,  and  cried  tearfully  : 
"  Oh  !  poor  little  Pomp  will  be  killed !" 
In   fact  the   danger  was  Imminent,   for  the 
lawn  at 'that  spot  merged  into  a  rocfey  space, 
forming    a    little    bluff    which    overhung  .liie 
st»m  some  fifteen  feet.      Oriana's   hand  was 
laflr  instinctively  upon  Arthur's  shoulder,  and 
with  the  other  she  pointed,  with  a  gesture  of 


'\ 


24  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

bewildered  anxiety,  at  the  approacliing  vehicle. 
Arthur  paused  only  long  enongh  to  understand 
the  situation,  and  then  stepping  calmly  a  few 
paces  to  the  left,  stood  directly  in  the  path  of 
the  rushing  steeds. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wayne !  no,  no  !"  cried  Oriana,  in 
a  tone  half  of  fear  and  half  supplication ;  but 
he  stood  thei-^  unmoved,  with  the  same  quiet, 
mournful  expression  that  he  habitually  wore. 
The  horses  faltered  somewhat  when  they  became 
conscious  of  this  fixed,  calm  figure  directly  in 
their  course.  They  would  have  turned,  but 
their  impetus  was  too  great,  and  they  swerved 
only  enough  to  bring  the  head  of  the  ofi"  horse 
in  a  line  Avith  Arthur's  body.  As  coolly  as  if 
he  was  taking  up  a  favorite  book,  but  with  a 
rapid  movement,  he  grasped  the  rein  below  the 
bit  with  both  hands  firmly,  and  swung  upon 
it  with  his  wliole  weight.  The  frightened  ani- 
mal turned  half  round,  stumbled,  and  rolled 
upon  his  side,  his  mate  falling  upon  his  knees 
beside  him ;  tlie  carriage  was  overturned  with 
a  crash,  and  little  Pompey  pitched  out  upofthe 
greensward,  unhurt. 

By    this     time,     Beverly,     followed     by     a 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  25 

crowd  of  excited  negroes,  had  reached  the 
spot. 

"How  is  it,  Arthur,"  said  Beverly,  placing 
his  hand  affectionately  on  his  friend's  shoulder, 
"  are  you  hurt  ?" 

*'  IS'o,"  he  replied,  the  melancholy  look  soften- 
ing into  a  pleasant  smile ;  but  as  he  rose  and 
adjusted  his  disordered  dress,  he  coughed  pain- 
fully—the same  dry,  hacking  cougli  that  had 
often  made  those  who  loved  him  turn  to  him 
witli  an  anxious  look.  It  was  evident  that  his 
delicate  frame  was  ill  suited  to  such  rough 
exercise. 

''  We  shall  be  cheated  out  of  our  ride  this 
morning,"  said  Beverly,  "for  that  axle  has  been 
less  fortunate  than  you,  Arthur ;  it  is  seriously 
hurt." 

They  moved  slowly  toward  the  house,  Oriana 
looking  silently  at  the  grass  as  she  walked 
mechanically  at  her  brother's  side.  When 
Arthur  descended  into  the  drawing-room,  after 
having  clianged  his  soiled  apparel,  he  found 
her  seated  there  alone,  by  the  casement,  with 
her  brow  upon  her  hand.  He  sat  down  at  the 
table  and  glanced  abstractedly  over  the  leaves 

2 


26  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

of  a  scrap-book.  Thus  tliey  sat  silently  for  a 
quarter  hour,  when  she  arose,  and  stood  beside 
him. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me,  Mr.  Wayne  ?" 

He  looked  up  and  saw  that  she  had  been 
weeping.  The  haughty  curl  of  the  lip  and 
proud  look  from  the  eye  were  all  gone,  and 
her  expression  was  of  humility  and  sorrow. 
She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  an  air 
almost  of  entreaty.  He  raised  it  respectfully 
to  his  lips,  and  with  the  low,  musical  voice, 
sadder  than  ever  before,  he  said  : 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  grieve  about 
anything.  There  is  nothing  to  forgive.  Let  us 
forget  it." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wayne,  how  unkind  I  have  been, 
and  how  cruelly  I  have  wronged  you !" 

She  pressed  his  hand  between  both  her  palms 
for  a  moment,  and  looked  into  his  face,  as  if 
studying  to  read  if  some  trace  of  resentment 
were  not  visible.  But  the  blue  eyes  looked 
down  kindly  and  mournfully  upon  her,  and 
bursting  into  tears,  she  turned  from  him,  and 
hurriedly  left  the  room. 


LOVE   AND    SECESSION.  27 


CHAPTEK  in. 

The  incident  related  in  the  preceding  chapter 
seemed  to  have  effected  a  marked  change  in  the 
demeanor  of  Oriana  toward  her  brother's  guest. 
She  realized  with  painful  force  the  wrong  that 
her  thoughtlessness,  more  than  her  malice,  had 
inflicted  on  a  noble  character,  and  it  required 
all  of  Arthur's  winning  sweetness  of  disposition 
to  remove  from  her  mind  the  impression  that 
she  stood,  while  in  his  presence,  in  the  light  of 
an  unforgiven  culprit.  They  were  necessarily 
much  in  each  other's  company,  in  the  course  of 
the  many  rambles  and  excursions  that  were 
devised  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  old 
manor  house,  and  Oriana  was  surprised  to  feel 
herself  insensibly  attracted  toward  the  shy  and 
pensive  man,  whose  character,  so  far  as  it  was 
betrayed  by  outward  sign,  was  the  very  reverse 
of  her  own  impassioned  temperament.  She  dis- 
covered that  the  unruffled  surface  covered  an 
under-current  of  pure  thought  and  exquisite  feel- 


28  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

ing,  and  when,  on  tlie  bosom  of  the  river,  or  in 
the  solitudes  of  the  forest,  his  spirit  threw  off  its 
reserve  under  the  spell  of  nature's  inspiration, 
she  felt  her  own  impetuous  organization  rebuked 
and  held  in  awe  bj  the  simple  and  quiet  gran- 
deur that  his  eloquence  revealed. 

One  afternoon,  some  two  weeks  after  his  arrival 
at  the  Kiverside  manor,  while  returning  from  a 
canter  in  the  neighborhood,  thej  paused  upon 
an  eminence  that  overlooked  a  portion  of  the 
city  of  Eichmond.  There,  upon  an  open  space, 
could  be  seen  a  great  number  of  the  citizens 
assembled,  apparently  listening  to  the  harangue 
of  an  orator.  The  occasional  cheer  that  arose 
from  the  multitude  faintly  reached  their  ears, 
and  that  mass  of  humanity,  restless,  turbulent 
and  excited,  seemed,  even  at  that  distance,  to  be 
swayed  by  some  mighty  passion. 

"  Look,  Miss  Weems,"  said  Arthur,  "  at  this 
magnificent  circle  of  gorgeous  scenery,  that  you 
are  so  justly  proud  of,  that  lies  around  you  in 
the  golden  sunset  like  a  dream  of  a  fairy  land- 
scape. See  how  the  slanting  rays  just  tip  the 
crest  of  that  distant  ridge,  making  it  glow  like  a 
coronet  of  gold,  and  then,  leaping  into  the  river 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  29 

beneath,  spangle  its  bosom  with  dazzling  sheen, 
save  where  a  part  rests  in  the  purple  shadow  of 
the  mountain.  Look  to  the  right,  and  sec  how 
those  crimson  clouds  seem  bending  from  heaven 
to  kiss  the  yellow  corn-fields  that  stretch  along 
the  horizon.  And  at  jour  feet,  the  city  of  Rich- 
mond extends  along  the  valley." 

'^  We  admit  the  beauty  of  the  scene  and  the 
accuracy  of  the  description,"  said  Beverly,  '^  but, 
for  my  part,  I  should  prefer  the  less  romantic 
view  of  some  of  Aunt  JS'ancy's  batter-cakes,  for 
this  ride  has  famished  me." 

"  IS'ow  look  below,"  continued  Arthur,  "  at 
that  swarm  of  human  beings  clustering  together 
like  angry  bees.  As  we  stand  here  gazing  at 
the  glorious  pageant  which  nature  spreads  out 
before  us,  one  might  suppose  that  only  for  some 
festival  of  rejoicing  or  thanksgiving  would  men 
assemble  at  such  an  hour  and  in  such  a  scene. 
But  what  are  the  beauties  of  the  landscape, 
bathed  in  the  glories  of  the  setting-sun,  to  them  ? 
They  have  met  to  listen  to  words  of  passion  and 
bitterness,  to  doctrines  of  strife,  to  denunciations 
and  criminations  against  their  fellow-men.  And, 
doubtless,  a  similar  scene  of  freemen  invoking 


30  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

the  spirit  of  contention  tliat  "we  behold  yonder 
in  that  pleasant  vallej  of  the  Old  Dominion,  is 
being  enacted  at  the  Korth  and  at  the  South,  at 
the  East  and  at  the  West,  all  over  the  length 
and  breadth  of  our  country.  The  seeds  of  dis- 
cord are  being  carefully  and  persistently  gath- 
ered and  disseminated,  and  on  both  sides,  these 
erring  mortals  will  claim  to  be  acting  in  the 
name  of  patriotism.  Beverly,  do  you  surmise 
nothing  ominous  of  evil  in  that  gathering  ?" 

"  Ten  to  one,  some  stirring  news  from  Charles- 
ton. "We  must  ride  over  after  supper,  Arthur, 
and  learn  the  upshot  of  it." 

"  And  I  will  be  a  sybil  for  the  nonce,"  said 
Oriana,  with  a  kindling  eye,  "  and  prophecy 
that  Southern  cannon  have  opened  upon  Sumter." 

In  the  evening,  in  despite  of  a  threatening 
sky,  Arthur  and  Beverly  mounted  their  horses 
and  galloped  toward  Eichmond.  As  they  ap- 
proached the  city,  the  rain  fell  heavily  and  they 
sought  shelter  at  a  wayside  tavern.  Observing 
the  public  room  to  be  full,  they  passed  into  a 
private  parlor  and  ordered  some  slight  refresh- 
ment. In  the  adjoining  tap-room  they  could 
hear  the  voices  of  excited  men,  discussing  some 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  3I 

topic  of  absorbing  interest.  Their  anticipations 
were  realized,  for  they  quickly  gathered  from 
the  tenor  of  the  disjointed  conversation  that  the 
bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter  had  begun. 

"  I'll  bet  my  pile,"  said  a  rough  voice,  "  that 
the  gridiron  bunting  won't  float  another  day 
in  South  Carolina." 

"  I'll  go  you  halves  on  that,  boss,  and  you 
and  I  won't  grow  greyer  nor  we  be,  before  Old 
Yirginny  says  '  me  too.'  " 

"  Seth  Rawbon,  you'd  better  be  packing  your 
traps  for  Massachusetts.  She'll  want  you  afore 
long." 

"  Boys,"  ejaculated  the  last-mentioned  per- 
sonage, with  an  oath,  '^  I  left  off  being  a  Massa- 
cbusetts  man  twelve  years  ago.  I'm  with  you, 
and  you  know  it.  Let's  drink.  Boys,  here's  to 
s]3unky  little  South  Carolina  ;  may  she  go  in  and 
win  !     Stranger,  what'll  you  drink  ?" 

"  I  will  not  drink,"  replied  a  clear,  manly 
voice,  which  had  been  silent  till  then. 

"  And  why  will  you  not  drink  ?"  rejoined  the 
other,  mocking  the  dignified  and  determined 
tone  in  which  the  invitation  was  refused. 

"  It  is  sufficient  tliat  I  will  not." 


^  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  Majliap  you  don't  like  my  sentiment  ?" 

''  Eight." 

"  Look  yon,  Mr.  Harold  Hare,  I  know  you 
well,  and  I  think  we'll  take  yon  down  from  your 
high  horse  before  yon're  many  honrs  older  in 
these  parts.  Boys,  let's  make  him  drink  to 
Sonth  Carolina." 

"  Who  is  he,  anyhow  ?" 

"  He's  an  abolitionist  ;  just  the  kind  that'll 
look  a  darned  sight  more  natural  in  a  coat  of 
tar  and  feathers.  Cut  out  his  heart  and  you'll 
find  John  Brown's  j)icture  there  as  large  as  life." 

At  the  mention  of  Harold's  name,  Arthur 
and  Beverly  had  started  up  simultaneously,  and 
throwing  open  the  bar-room  door,  entered  hastily. 
Harold  had  risen  from  his  seat  and  stood  con- 
fronting Hawbon  with  an  air  in  which  anger 
and  contempt  were  strangely  blended.  The  latter 
leaned  with  awkward  carelessness  against  the 
counter,  sipping  a  glass  of  spirits  and  water  with 
a  malicious  smile. 

"  You  are  an  insolent  scoundrel,"  said  Harold, 
"  and  I  would  horsewhip  you,  if  you  were  worth 
the  pains." 

Rawbon  looked  around  and  for  a  second  seemed 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  33 

to  study  the  faces  of  those  about  him.  Tlien 
Lizily  reaching  o^r  toward  Harold,  he  took 
him  by  tlie  arm  and  drew  him  toward  the 
counter. 

"  Say,  you  just  come  and  drink  to  South 
Carolina." 

The  heavy  horsewhip  in  Harold's  hand  rose 
suddenly  and  descended  like  a  flash.  The 
knotted  lash  struck  Rawbon  full  in  the  mouth, 
splitting  the  lips  like  a  knife.  In  an  instant 
several  knives  were  drawn,  and  Rawbon,  splut- 
tering an  oath  through  the  spurting  blood  that 
choked  his  utterance,  drew  a  revolver  from  its 
holster  at  his  side. 

Tlie  entrance  of  the  two  young  men  was 
timely.  They  immediately  placed  themselves 
in  front  of  Harold,  and  Arthur,  with  his  usual 
mild  expression,  looked  full  in  Rawbon's  eye, 
although  the  latter's  pistol  was  in  a  line  with 
his  breast. 

"  Stand  out  of  the  way,  you  two,"  shouted 
Eawbon,  savagely. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  gentlemen  ?" 
said  Beverly,  quietly,  to  the  excited  bystanders, 
to  several  of  whom  he  was  personally  known 

2* 


34  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  Squire  Weems,"  replied  one  among  them, 
"  jon  had  better  stand  aside*  Rawbon  lias  a 
lien  on  that  fellow's  hide.  He's  an  abolitionist, 
anyhow,  and  ain't  worth  your  interference." 

"  He  is  my  very  intimate  friend,  and  I  will 
answer  for  him  to  any  one  here,"  said  Beverly, 
warmly. 

''  I  will  answer  for  myself,"  said  Hare,  press- 
ing forward. 

''  Hien  answer  that !"  yelled  Rawbon,  level- 
ling and  shooting  with  a  rapid  movement. 
But  "Wayne's  quiet  eye  had  been  riveted  upon 
him  all  the  while,  and  he  had  thrown  up  the 
ruffian's  arm  as  he  pulled  the  trigger.^ 

Beverly's  eyes  flashed  like  live  coals,  and  he 
sprang  at  Rawbon's  throat,  but  the  crowd 
pressed  between  them,  and  for  a  while  the 
utmost  confusion  prevailed,  but  no  blows  were 
struck.  The  landlord,  a  sullen,  black-browed 
man,  who  had  hitherto  leaned  silently  on  the 
counter,  taking  no  part  in  the  fray,  now  inter- 
posed. 

"  Come,  1  don't  want  no  more  loose  shooting 
here  !"  and,  by  way  of  assisting  his  remark,  he 
took  down  his   double-barrelled  shot-gun    and 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  35 

jumped  upon  the  counter.  The  fellow  was 
well  known  for  a  desperate  though  not  quarrel- 
some character,  and  lils  action  had  the  effect  of 
somewhat  quieting  the  excited  crowd. 

"  Boys,"  continued  he,  "  it's  only  Yankee 
against  Yankee,  anyhow ;  if  they're  gwine  to 
light,  let  the  stranger  have  fair  play.  Here 
stranger,  if  you're  a  friend  of  Squire  W"eems, 
you  kin  have  a  fair  show  in  my  house,  I  reckon, 
so  take  hold  of  this,"  and  taking  a  revolver  from 
his  belt,  he  passed  it  to  Beverly,  who  cocked 
it  and  slipped  it  into  Harold's  hand.  Rawbon, 
who  throughout  the  confusion  had  been  watch- 
ing for  the  opportunity  of  a  shot  at  his  antago- 
nist, now  found  himself  front  to  front  with  the 
object  of  his  hate,  for  the  bystanders  had  in- 
stinctively drawn  back  a  space,  and  even  Wayne 
and  Weems,  willing  to  trust  to  their  friend's 
coolness  and  judgment,  had  stepped  aside. 

Harold  sighted  his  man  as  coolly  as  if  he  had 
been  aiming  at  a  squirrel.  Bawbon  did  not 
flinch,  for  he  was  not  wanting  in  physical 
courage,  but  he  evidently  concluded  that  the 
chances  were  against  him,  and  with  a  bitter 
smile,  he  walked  slowly  toward  the  door.    Turn- 


30  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

ing  at  the  tliresliold,  he  scowled  for  a  moment  at 
Harold,  as  if  hesitating  whether  to  accej^t  the 
encounter. 

"  I'll  fix  you  jet,"  he  finally  muttered,  and 
left  the  room.  A  few  moments  afterward,  the 
three  friends  were  mounted  and  riding  briskly 
toward  Eiverside  manor. 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  3^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Oeiana,  after  awaiting  till  a  late  hour  the 
return  of  her  brother  and  his  friend,  had  retired 
to  rest,  and  was  sleeping  soundly  when  the  party 
entered  the  house,  after  their  remarkable  adven- 
ture. She  was  therefore  unconscious,  upon 
descending  from  her  apartment  in  the  morning, 
of  the  addition  to  her  little  household.  Stand- 
ing upon  the  veranda,  she  perceived  what  she 
supposed  to  be  her  brother's  form  moving 
among  the  shrubbery  in  the  garden.  She 
hastened  to  accost  him,  curious  to  ascertain  the 
nature  of  the  excitement  in  Richmond  on  the 
preceding  afternoon.  Great  was  her  astonish- 
ment and  unfeigned  her  pleasure,  upon  turning 
a  little  clump  of  bushes,  to  find  herself  face  to 
face  with  Harold  Hare. 

He  had  been  lost  in  meditation,  but  upon 
seeing  her  his  brow  lit  up  as  a  midnight  sky 
brightens  when  a  passing  cloud  has  unshrouded 
the  full  moon.     With  a  cry  of  joy  she  held  out 


38  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

both  her  hands  to  him,  which  he  pressed  silently 
for  a  moment  as  he  gazed  tenderly  upon  the 
upturned,  smiling  face,  and  then,  pushing  back 
the  black  tresses,  he  touched  her  white  forehead 
with  his  lips. 

Arthur  Wayne  was  looking  out  from  his 
lattice  above,  and  his  eye  chanced  to  turn  that 
way  at  the  moment  of  the  meeting.  He  started 
as  if  struck  with  a  sudden  pang,  and  his  cheek, 
always  pale,  became  of  an  ashen  hue.  Long  he 
gazed  with  labored  breath  upon  the  pair,  as  if 
unable  to  realize  what  he  had  seen ;  then,  with 
a  suppressed  moan,  he  sank  into  a  chair,  and 
leaned  his  brow  heavily  upon  his  hand.  Thus 
for  half  an  hour  he  remained  motionless  ;  it  was 
only  after  a  second  summons  that  he  roused 
himself  and  descended  to  the  morning  meal. 

At  the  breakfast  table  Oriana  was  in  high 
spirits,  and  failed  to  observe  that  Arthur  was 
more  sad  than  usual.  Her  brother,  however, 
was  preoccupied  and  thoughtful,  and  even 
Harold,  although  happy  in  the  society  of  one  he 
loved,  could  not  refrain  from  moments  of  abstrac- 
tion. Of  course  the  adventure  of  the  preceding 
night  was  concealed  from  Oriana,  but  it  yet 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  39 

furnished  the  young  men  with  matter  for 
reflection;  and,  coupled  with  the  exciting  intelli- 
gence from  South  Carolina,  it  suggested,  to 
Harold  especially,  a  vision  of  an  unhappy 
future.  It  was  natural  that  the  thought  should 
obtrude  itself  of  how  soon  a  barrier  might  be 
placed  between  friends  and  loved  ones,  and  the 
most  sacred  ties  sundered,  perhaps  forever. 

Miss  Randolph,  Oriana's  aunt,  usually  re- 
served and  silent,  seemed  on  this  occasion  the 
most  inquisitive  and  talkative  of  the  party. 
Her  interest  in  the  momentous  turn  that  affairs 
had  taken  was  naturally  aroused,  and  she 
questioned  the  young  men  closely  as  to  their 
view  of  the  probable  consequences. 

"  Surely,"  she  remarked,  "  a  nation  of  Chris- 
tian people  will  choose  some  alternative  other 
than  the  sword  to  adjust  their  differences." 

"  Wliy,  aunt,"  replied  Oriana,  with  spirit, 
"what  better  weapon  than  the  sword  for  the 
oppressed  ?" 

"  I  feal*  there  is  treason  lurking  in  that  little 
heart  of  yours,"  said  Harold,  with  a  pensive 
smile. 

"  I  am  a  true  Southerner,  Mr.  Hare ;  and  if 


40  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

I  were  a  man,  I  would  take  down  my  father's 
rifle  and  march  into  General  Beauregard's 
camp.  We  have  been  too  long  anathematized 
as  the  vilest  of  God's  creatures,  because  we 
will  not  turn  over  to  the  world's  cold  charity 
the  helpless  beings  that  were  bequeathed  into 
our  charge  by  our  fathers.  I  would  protect  my 
slave  against  Northern  fanaticism  as  firmly  as 
I  would  guard  my  children  from  the  interfer- 
ence of  a  stranger,  were  I  a  mother." 

"  The  government  against  which  you  would 
rebel,"  said  Harold,  "  contemplates  no  interfer- 
ence with  your  slaves." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hare,"  rejoined  Oriana,  warmly, 
"  we  of  the  South  can  see  the  spirit  of  abolitiou- 
ism  sitting  in  the  executive  chair,  as  plainly  as 
we  see  the  sunshine  on  an  unclouded  summer 
day.  As  well  might  we  change  places  with  our 
bondmen,  as  submit  to  this  deliberate  crusade 
against  our  institutions.  Mr.  Wayne,  you  are  a 
man  not  prone  to  prejudice,  I  sincerely  believe. 
Would  you  from  your  heart  assert  that  this 
government  is  not  hostile  to  Southern  slavery  ?" 

"  I  believe  you  are,  on  both  sides,  too  sensi- 
tive upon  the  unhappy  subject.     You  are  breed- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  41 

ing  danger,  and  perliaps  ruin,  out  of  abstract 
ideas,  and  civil  war  will  have  laid  the  country 
waste  before  either  party  will  have  awakened 
to  a  knowledge  that  no  actual  cause  of  conten- 
tion exists." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Beverly,  "  the  mere  fact  that 
the  two  sections  are  hostile  in  sentiment,  is  the 
best  reason  why  they  should  be  hostile  in  deed, 
if  a  separation  can  only  be  accomplished  by 
force  of  arms." 

"  And  do  you  really  fancy,"  said  Harold, 
sharply,  "that  a  separation  is  possible,  in  the 
face  of  the  opposition  of  twenty  millions  of 
loyal  citizens  ?" 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Oriana,  "  in  the  face  of 
the  opjDosing  world.  We  established  our  right 
to  self-government  in  1776;  and  in  1861  we 
are  prepared  to  prove  our  power  to  sustain  that 
right." 

"  You  are  a  young  enthusiast,"  said  Harold, 
smiling.  "  This  rebellion  will  be  crushed  before 
the  flowers  in  that  garden  shall  be  touched  w4th 
the  earliest  frost." 

"  I  think  you  have  formed  a  false'  estimate  of 
the   movement,"    remarked   Beverly,   gravely ; 


42  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

*^  or  rather,  you  have  not  fully  considered  of  the 
subject." 

"  Harold,"  said  Arthur,  sadly,  "  I  regret,  and 
perhaps  censure,  equally  with  yourself,  the  pre- 
cipitancy of  our  Carolinian  brothers  ;  but  this 
is  not  an  age,  nor  a  country,  where  six  millions 
of  freeborn  people  can  be  controlled  by  bayo- 
nets and  cannon." 

They  were  about  rising  from  the  table,  when 
a  servant  announced  that  some  gentlemen 
desired  to  speak  with  Mr.  "Weems  in  private. 
He  passed  into  the  drawing-room,  and  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  three  men,  two  of 
whom  he  recognized  as  small  farmers  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  the  other  as  the  landlord  of  a 
public  house.  With  a  brief  salutation,  he  seated 
himself  beside  them,  and  after  a  few  common- 
place remarks,  paused,  as  if  to  learn  their  busi- 
ness with  him. 

After  a  little  somewhat  awkward  hesitation, 
the  publican  broke  silence. 

^'  Squire  Weems,  we've  called  about  a  rather 
unpleasant  sort  of  business  " 

"  The  sooner  we  transact  it,  then,  the  better 
for  all,  I  fancy,  gentlemen." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  43 

"  Just  80.  Old  Judge  "Weems,  vour  father, 
was  a  true  Yirginian,  squire,  and  we  know  you 
are  of  the  right  sort,  too."  Beverly  bowed  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  compliment.  "  Squire, 
the  boys  hereabouts  met  down  thar  at  my  house 
last  night,  to  take  into  consideration  them  two 
Northern  fellows  that  are  putting  up  with 
you." 

"Well,  sir?" 

"  'We  don't  want  any  Yankee  abolitionists  in 
these  parts." 

"  Mr.  Lucas,  I  have  no  guests  for  whom  I  will 
not  vouch." 

"  Can't  help  that,  squire,  them  chaps  is 
spotted,  and  the  boys  have  voted  they  must 
leave.  As  they  be  your  company,  us  threeVe 
been  deputized  to  call  on  you  and  have  a  talk 
about  it.  We  don't  want  to  do  nothing  unplea- 
sant whar  you're  consarned,  squire." 

"  Gentlemen,  my  guests  shall  remain  with  me 
while  they  please  to  honor  me  with  their  com- 
pany, and  I  -^vill  protect  them  from  violence  or 
indignity  with  my  life." 

"There's  no  mistake  but  you're  good  grit, 
squire,  but  'tain't  no  use.     You  know  what  the 


44:  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

bojs  mean  to  do,  they'll  do.  E'ow,  wliar's  the 
good  of  kicking  up  a  sliindj  about  it  ?" 

"  No  good  whatever,  Mr.  Lucas.  You  had 
better  let  this  matter  drop.  You  know  me  too 
well  to  suppose  that  I  would  harbor  dangerous 
characters.  It  is  my  earnest  desire  to  avoid 
everything  that  may  bring  about  an  unnecessary 
excitement,  or  disturb  the  peace  of  the  commu- 
nity ;  and  I  shall  therefore  make  no  secret  of 
this  intereviw  to  my  friends.  But  whether  they 
remain  with  me  or  go,  shall  be  entirely  at  their 
option.  I  trust  that  my  roof  will  be  held  sacred 
by  my  fellow-citizens." 

"There'll  be  no  harm  done  to  you  or  yours, 
Squire  "Weems,  whatever  happens.  But  those 
strangers  had  better  be  out  of  these  parts  by 
to-morrow,  sure.     Good  morning,  squire." 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen." 

And  the  three  worthies  took  their  departure, 
not  fully  satisfied  whether  the  object  of  their 
mission  had  been  fulfilled. 

Beverly,  anxious  to  avoid  a  collision  with  the 
wild  spirits  of  the  neighborhood,  which  would 
be  disagreeable,  if  not  dangerous,  to  his  guests, 
frankly  related  to  Harold  and  Arthur  the  tenor 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  4§ 

of  tlie  conversation  that  Lad  passed.  Oriana 
was  on  fire  with  indignation,  but  her  concern 
for  Harold's  safety  had  its  weight  with  her,  and 
she  wisely  refrained  from  opposing  their  depar- 
ture;  and  both  the  young  men,  aware  that  a 
prolongation  of  their  visit  would  cause  the 
family  at  Riverside  manor  much  inconvenience 
and  anxiety,  straightway  announced  their  inten- 
tion of  proceeding  northward  on  the  following 
morning. 

But  it  was  no  part  of  Seth  Eawbon's  purpose 
to  allow  his  rival,  Hare,  to  depart  in  peace. 
The  chastisement  which  he  had  received  at 
Harold's  hands  added  a  most  deadly  hate  to 
the  jealousy  which  his  knowledge  of  Oriana's 
preference  had  caused.  He  had  considerable 
influence  with  several  of  the  dissolute  and  law- 
less characters  of  the  vicinity,  and  a  liberal 
allowance  of  Monongahela,  together  with  sundry 
pecuniary  favors,  enabled  him  to  depend  upon 
their  assistance  in  any  adventure  that  did  not 
promise  particularly  serious  results.  ]N'ow  the 
capture  and  mock  trial  of  a  couple  of  Yankee 
strangers  did  not  seem  much  out  of  the  way  to 
these  not  over-scrupulous  worthies  ;    and  Raw- 


46  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

b  Oil's  cunning  representations  as  to  the  extent 
of  their  abolition  proclivities  were  scarcely 
necessary,  in  view  of  the  liberality  of  his 
bribes,  to  secure  their  cooperation  in  his  scheme. 

Rawbon  had  been  prowling  about  the  manor 
house  during  the  day,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining 
some  clue  to  the  intentions  of  the  inmates, 
and  observing  a  mulatto  boy  engaged  in 
arranging  the  boat  for  present  use,  he  walked 
carelessly  along  the  bank  to  the  old  boat-house, 
and,  by  a  few  adroit  questions,  ascertained  that 
"  Missis  and  the  two  gen'lmen  gwine  to  take  a 
sail  this  arternoon." 

The  evening  was  drawing  on  apace  when 
Oriana,  accompanied  by  Arthur  and  Harold, 
set  forth  on  the  last  of  the  many  excursions 
they  had  enjoyed  on  James  River;  but  they 
had  purposely  selected  a  late  hour,  that  on  their 
return  they  might  realize  the  tranquil  pleasures 
of  a  sail  by  moonlight.  Beverly  was  busy 
finishing  some  correspondence  for  the  IS'orth, 
which  he  intended  giving  into  the  charge  of  his 
friend  Arthur,  and  he  therefore  remained  at 
home.  Phil,  a  smart  mulatto,  about  ten  years 
of  age,  who  was  a  general  favorite  in  the  family 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  47 

and  an  especial  pet  of  Oriana,  was  allowed  to 
accompany  the  party. 

It  Avas  a  lovely  evening,  only  cool  enough  to 
be  comfortable  for  Oriana  to  be  wrapped  in  her 
woollen  sliawl.  As  the  shadows  of  twilight  dark- 
ened on  the  silent  river,  a  spirit  of  sadness  was 
with  the  party,  that  vague  and  painful  melan- 
choly that  weighs  upon  the  heart  when  happy 
ties  are  about  to  be  sundered,  and  loved  ones  are 
about  to  part.  Arthur  had  brought  his  flute, 
and  with  an  effort  to  throw  off  the  feeling  of 
gloom,  he  essayed  a  lively  air;  but  it  seemed 
like  discord  by  association  with  their  thoughts. 
He  ceased  abruptly,  and,  at  Oriana's  request, 
chose  a  more  mournful  theme.  When  the  last 
notes  of  the  plaintive  melody  had  been  lost  in 
the  stillness  of  the  night,  there  was  an  oppres- 
sive pause,  only  broken  by  the  rustle  of  the  little 
sail  and  the  faint  rippling  of  the  wave. 

"I  seem  to  be  sailing  into  the  shadows  of 
misfortune,"  said  Oriana,  in  a  low,  sad  tone.  "  I 
wish  the  moon  would  rise,  for  this  darkness 
presses  upon  my  heart  like  the  fingers  of  a  sor- 
rowful destiny.    "What  a  coward  I  am  to-night !" 

"A  most  obedient  satellite,"  replied  Arthur. 


48  rORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

^'Look  where  slie  heralds  her  approach  by 
spreading  a  misty  glow  on  the  brow  of  yonder 
hill." 

"  We  have  left  the  shadows  of  misfortune 
behind  us,"  said  Harold,  as  a  flood  of  moonlight 
flashed  over  the  river,  seeming  to  dash  a  million 
of  diamonds  in  the  path  of  the  gliding  boat. 

"  Alas  !  the  fickle  orb  !"  murmured  Oriana ; 
"  it  rises  but  to  mock  us,  and  hides  itself  already 
in  the  bosom  of  that  sable  cloud.  Is  there  not 
a  threat  of  rain  there,  Mr.  Hare  ?" 

"  It  looks  unpromising,  at  the  best,"  said 
Harold ;  "  I  think  it  would  be  prudent  to 
return." 

Suddenly,  little  Phil,  who  had  been  lying  at 
ease,  with  his  head  against  the  thwarts,  arose  on 
his  elbow  and  cried  out  : 

"AYlia'dat?" 

"  What  is  what,  Phil  ?"  asked  Oriana.  "  Why, 
Phil,  you  have  been  dreaming,"  she  added, 
observing  the  lad's  confusion  at  having  spoken 
so  veliemently. 

"Miss  Orany,  dar's  a  boat  out  yonder.  I 
heard  'em  pulling,  sure." 

^'  Nonsense,  Phil !  you've  been  asleep," 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  49 

"By  Gol!  I  heard  'em,  sure.  Wliat  a  boat 
doing  round  here  dis  time  o'  night  ?  Dem's 
some  niggers  arter  chickens,  sure." 

And  little  Phil,  satisfied  that  he  had  fathomed 
the  mystery,  lay  down  again  in  a  fit  of  silent 
indignation.  The  boat  was  put  about,  but  the 
wind  had  died  away,  and  the  sail  flapped  idly 
against  the  mast.  Harold,  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity for  a  little  exercise,  shij^ped  the  sculls  and 
bent  to  his  work. 

"  Miss  Oriana,  put  her  head  for  the  bank  if 
you  please.  We  shall  have  less  current  to  pull 
against  in-shore." 

The  boat  glided  along  under  the  shadow  of 
the  bank,  and  no  sound  was  heard  but  the  regu- 
lar thugging  and  splashing  of  the  oars  and  the 
voices  of  insects  on  the  shore.  They  approached 
a  curve  in  the  river  where  the  bank  was  thickly 
wooded,  and  dense  shrubbery  projected  over  the 
stream. 

"  Wha'  dat '?"  shouted  Phil  again,  starting  up 
in  the  bow  and  peering  into  the  darkness.  A 
boat  shot  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  foliage, 
and  her  course  was  checked  directly  in  their 
path.  The  movement  was  so  sudden  that,  before 
3 


50  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

Harold  could  check  his  headway,  the  two  boats 
fouled.  A  boathook  was  thrust  into  the  thwarts; 
Arthur  sprang  to  the  bows  to  cast  it  off. 

"Don't  touch  that,"  shouted  a  hoarse  voice; 
and  he  felt  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  thrust  into  his 
breast. 

"  Kone  of  that,  Seth,"  cried  another ;  and  the 
speaker  laid  hold  of  his  comrade's  arm.  "  "We 
must  have  no  shooting,  you  know." 

Arthur  had  thrown  off  the  boathook,  but 
some  half-dozen  armed  men  had  already  leaped 
into  the  frail  vessel,  crowding  it  to  such  an 
extent  that  a  struggle,  even  had  it  not  been 
madness  against  such  odds,  would  have  occa- 
sioned great  personal  danger  to  Oriana.  Both 
Arthur  and  Harold  seemed  instinctively  to  com- 
prehend this,  and  therefore  offered  no  opposi- 
tion. Their  boat  was  taken  in  tow,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  entire  party,  with  one  exception, 
were  landed  upon  the  adjacent  bank.  That 
exception  was  little  Phil.  In  the  confusion  that 
ensued  upon  the  collision  of  the  two  boats,  the 
lad  had  quietly  slipped  overboard,  and  swam 
around  to  the  stern  where  his  mistress  sat. 

"  Miss  Orany,  hist !  Miss  Orany  I" 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  51 

Tlie  bewildered  girl  turned  and  belield  the 
black  face  peering  over  the  gunwale. 

"  Miss  Oranj,  here  I  is.  O  Lor' !  Miss  Orany, 
what  we  gwine  to  do  ?" 

She  bowed  her  head  toward  him  and  whis- 
pered hurriedly,  but  calmly : 

"  Mind  what  I  tell  you,  Phil.  You  watch 
where  they  take  us  to,  and  then  run  home  and 
tell  Master  Beverlj.  Do  you  understand  me, 
Phil  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  does,  Miss  Orany  ;"  and  the  little 
fellow  struck  out  silently  for  the  shore,  and 
crept  among  the  bushes. 

Oriana  betrayed  no  sign  of  fear  as  she  stood 
with  her  two  companions  on  the  bank  a  few 
paces  from  their  captors.  The  latter,  in  a  low 
but  earnest  tone,  were  disputing  with  one  who 
seemed  to  act  as  their  leader. 

"  You  didn't  tell  us  nothing  about  the  lady," 
said  a  brawny,  rugged-looking  fellow,  angrily. 
"JS'ow,  look  here,  Seth  Kawbon,  this  ain't  a 
goin'  to  do.  I'd  cut  your  heart  out,  before 
I'd  let  any  harm  come  to  Squire  Weems'  sis- 
ter." 

"You  lied  to  us,  you   long-headed  Yankee 


52  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

turncoat,"  muttered  another.  What  in  thunder 
do  you  mean  bringing  us  down  here  for  kid- 
napping a  lady  ?" 

"  Ain't  I  worried  about  it  as  much  as  you  ?" 
answered  Kawbon.  "  Can't  you  understand  it's 
all  a  mistake  ?" 

"  Well,  now,  you  go  and  apologize  to  Miss 
Weems  and  fix  matters,  d'ye  hear  ?" 

"  But  what  can  we  do  ?" 

"  Do  ?  Undo  what  you've  done,  and  show  her 
back  into  the  boat." 

"  But  the  two  abo  " 

"  Damn  them  and  you  along  with  'em  I  Come^ 
boys,  don't  let's  keep  the  lady  waiting  thar." 

The  party  approached  their  prisoners,  and  one 
among  them,  hat  in  hand,  respectfully  addressed 
Oriana. 

"  Miss  Weems,  we're  plaguy  sorry  this 
should  'a  happened.  It's  a  mistake  and  none 
of  our  fault.  Your  boat's  down  thar  and  yer 
shan't  be  merlested." 

"  Am  I  free  to  go ?"  asked  Oriana,  calmly. 

"  Free  as  air,  Miss  Weems." 

"  With  my  companions  ?" 

"  Koj  they  remain  with  us,"  said  Rawbon. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  53 

"  Then  I  remain  with  them,"  she  replied,  with 
dignity  and  firmness. 

The  man  Avho  had  first  remonstrated  with 
HaAvbon,  stepped  up  to  him  and  laid  his  hand 
heavily  on  his  shoulder : 

"  Look  here,  Seth  Hawbon,  you've  played  out 
your  hand  in  this  game,  now  mind  that.  Miss 
Weems,  you're  free  to  go,  anyhow,  w4th  them 
chaps  or  not,  just  as  you  like." 

"  They  stepped  down  the  embankment,  but 
the  boats  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Rawbon, 
anticipating  some  trouble  with  his  gang,  had 
made  a  pretence  only  of  securing  the  craft  to  a 
neighboring  bush.  The  current  had  carried  the 
boats  out  into  the  stream,  and  they  had  floated 
down  the  river  and  were  lost  to  sight  in  the 
darkness. 


54  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OB, 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

There  was  no  remedy  but  to  cross  the  -wood- 
land and  cornfields  that  for  about  a  league 
intervened  between  their  position  and  the  high- 
way. They  commenced  the  tedious  tramp, 
Arthur  and  Harold  exerting  themselves  to  the 
utmost  to  protect  Oriana  from  the  brambles,  and 
to  guide  her  footsteps  along  the  uneven  ground 
and  among  the  decayed  branches  and  other 
obstacles  that  beset  their  j)ath.  Their  rude 
comj)anions,  too,  with  the  exception  of  Eawbon, 
who  walked  moodily  apart,  seemed  solicitous  to 
assist  her  with  their  rough  attentions.  To  add 
to  the  disagreeable  nature  of  their  situation,  the 
rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents  before  they  had 
accomplished  one  half  of  the  distance.  They 
were  then  in  the  midst  of  a  tract  of  wooded 
land  that  was  almost  impassable  for  a  lady  in 
the  darkness,  on  account  of  the  yielding  nature 
of  the  soil,  and  the  numerous  ruts  and  hollows 
that  were  soon  transformed  into  miniature  pools 


LOVE    AlsB    SECESSION.  55 

and  streams.  Oriana  strove  to  treat  tlie  adven- 
ture as  a  theme  for  laughter,  and  for  awhile 
chatted  gaily  witli  her  companions ;  but  it  was 
evident  that  she  was  fast  becoming  weary,  and 
that  her  thin-shod  feet  were  wounded  by  con- 
stant contact  with  the  twigs  and  sharp  stones 
that  it  was  impossible  to  avoid  in  the  darkness. 
Her  dress  was  torn,  and  heavy  with  mud  and 
moisture,  and  the  two  young  men  were  pained 
to  perceive  that,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  and  their 
watchful  care,  she  stumbled  frequently  with 
exhaustion,  and  leaned  heavily  on  their  arms  as 
she  labored  through  the  miry  soil. 

One  of  the  party  opportunely  remembered  a 
charcoal-burner's  hut  in  the  vicinity,  that  would 
at  least  afford  a  rude  shelter  from  the  drivino- 
storm.  Several  of  the  men  hastened  in  search 
of  it,  and  soon  a  halloo  not  far  distant  indicated 
that  the  cabin,  such  as  it  was,  had  been  dis- 
covered. As  tliey  approached,  they  were  sur- 
prised to  observe  rays  of  light  streamino;  throuo-h 
the  cracks  and  crevices,  as  if  a  fire  were  blazino- 
within.  It  was  an  uninviting  structure,  hastily 
constructed  of  unhewn  logs,  and  upon  ordinary 
occasions   Oriana  would  have  hesitated  to  pass 


56  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

the  threshold ;  but  wet  and  weary  as  she  was, 
she  was  glad  to  obtain  the  shelter  of  even  so 
poor  a  hovel. 

"  There's  a  runaway  in  thar,  I  reckon/'  said 
one  of  the  party.  He  threw  open  the  door,  and 
several  of  the  men  entered.  A  fire  of  logs  was 
burning  on  the  earthen  floor,  and  beside  it  was 
stretched  a  negro's  form,  wrapj)ed  in  a  tattered 
blanket.  He  started  up  as  his  unwelcome 
visitors  entered,  and  looked  frightened  and 
bewildered,  as  if  suddenly  awakened  from  a 
sound  sleep.  However,  he  had  no  sooner  laid 
eyes  upon  Seth  Eawbon  than,  with  a  yell  of  fear, 
he  sprang  with  a  powerful  leap  through  tlie 
doorway,  leaving  his  blanket  in  the  hands  of 
those  who  sought  to  grasp  him. 

"  That's  my  nigger  Jim !"  cried  Eawbon, 
discharging  his  revolver  at  the  dusky  form  as  it 
ran  like  a  deer  into  the  shadow  of  the  woods. 
At  every  shot,  the  negro  jumped  and  screamed, 
but,  from  his  accelerated  speed,  was  apparently 
untouched. 

"  After  him,  boys  !"  shouted  Eawbon.  "  Five 
dollars  apiece  and  a  gallon  of  whisky  if  you 
bring  the  varmint  in." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  57 

With  a  wlioop,  the  whole  party  went  off  in 
chase  and  were  soon  lost  to  view  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

Harold  and  Arthur  led  Oriana  into  the  hut, 
and,  spreading  their  coats  upon  the  damp  floor, 
made  a  rude  couch  for  her  beside  the  fire.  The 
poor  girl  was  evidently  prostrated  with  fatigue 
and  excitement,  yet,  with  a  faint  laugh  and  a 
jest  as  she  glanced  around  upon  the  questionable 
accommodations,  she  thanhed  thein  for  their 
kindness,  and  seated  herself  beside  the  blazing 
fagots. 

"  This  is  a  strange  finale  to  our  pleasure 
excursion,"  she  said,  as  the  grateful  warmth 
somewhat  revived  her  spirits.  '^  You  must 
acknowledge  me  a  prophetess,  gentlemen,"  she 
added,  with  a  smile,  "  for  you  see  that  we  sailed 
indeed  into  the  shadows  of  misfortune." 

"Should  your  health  not  suffer  from  this 
exposure,"  replied  Arthur,  "  our  adventure  will 
prove  no  misfortune,  but  only  a  theme  for  mirth 
hereafter,  when  we  recall  to  mind  our  present 
piteous  plight." 

"  Oh,  I  am  strong,  Mr.  Wayne,"  she  an- 
swered cheerfully,  perceiving  the  expression  of 
4* 


58  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

solicitude  in  the  countenances  of  lier  com- 
panions, "  and  have  passed  the  ordeal  of  many 
a  thorough  wetting  with  impunity.  ]JTever  fear 
but  I  shall  fare  well  enough.  I  am  only  sorry 
and  ashamed  that  all  our  boasted  Yirginia 
hospitality  can  afford  you  no  better  quarters 
than  this  for  your  last  night  among  us." 

"  Apart  from  the  discomfort  to  yourself,  this 
little  episode  will  only  make  brighter  by  contrast 
my  remembrance  of  the  many  happy  hours  we 
have  passed  together,"  said  Arthur,  with  a  tone 
of  deep  feeling  that  caused  Oriana  to  turn  and 
gaze  thoughtfully  into  the  flaming  pile. 

Harold  said  nothing,  and  stood  leaning  mood- 
ily against  the  wall  of  the  hovel,  evidently  a 
prey  to  painful  thoughts.  His  mind  wandered 
into  the  glooms  of  the  future,  and  dwelt  upon 
the  hour  when  he,  perhaps,  should  tread  with 
hostile  arms  the  soil  that  was  the  birthplace  of 
his  beloved.  "  Can  it  be  possible,"  he  thought, 
"that  between  us  twain,  united  as  we  are  in 
soul,  there  can  exist  such  variance  of  opinion  as 
will  make  her  kin  and  mine  enemies,  and  per- 
haps the  shedders  of  each  other's  blood !" 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Oriana,  her  raiment 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  59 

being  partially  dried,  rested  her  head  u^on  her 
arm  and  slumbered. 

The  storm  increased  in  yiolence,  and  the  rain, 
pelting  against  the  cabin  roof,  with  its  weird 
music,  formed  a  dismal  accompaniment  to  the 
grotesque  discomfort  of  their  situation.  Arthur 
threw  fresh  fuel  upon  the  fire,  and  the  crackling 
twigs  sent  up  a  fitful  flame,  that  fell  athwart  the 
face  of  the  sleeping  girl,  and  revealed  an  expres- 
sion of  sorrow  upon  her  features  that  caused 
him  to  turn  away  with  a  sigh. 

"Arthur,"  asked  Harold,  abruptly,  "do  you 
think  tliis  unfortunate  affair  at  Sumter  will  breed 
much  trouble  ?" 

"  I  fear  it,"  said  Arthur,  sadly.  "  Our  JS'orth- 
ern  hearts  are  made  of  sterner  stuff  than  is 
consistent  with  the  spirit  of  conciliation." 

"  And  what  of  Southern  hearts  ?" 

"  You  have  studied  them,"  said  Arthur,  with 
a  pensive  smile,  and  bending  his  gaze  upon  the 
sleeping  maiden. 

Harold  colored  slightly,  and  glanced  half 
reproachfully  at  his  friend. 

"  I  cannot  help  believing,"  continued  the  lat- 
ter, "  that  we  are  blindly  invoking  a  fatal  strife. 


60  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

more  in  tlie  spirit  of  exaltation  than  of  calm  and 
searching  philosoj^hj.  I  am  confident  that  the 
elements  of  nnion  still  exist  within  the  sections, 
but  my  instinct,  no  less  than  my  judgment,  tells 
me  that  they  will  no  longer  exist  when  the 
chariot-wheels  of  war  shall  have  swept  over  the 
land.  "Whatever  be  the  disparity  of  strength, 
wealth  and  numbers,  and  whatever  may  be  the 
result  of  encounters  upon  the  battle-field,  such  a 
terrible  war  as  both  sides  are  capable  of  waging 
can  never  build  up  or  sustain  a  fabric  whose 
cement  must  be  brotherhood  and  kindly  feeling. 
I  would  as  soon  think  to  woo  the  woman  of  my 
cboice  with  angry  words  and  blows,  as  to  recon- 
cile our  divided  fellow  citizens  by  force  of 
arms." 

"  You  are  more  a  philosopher  than  a  patriot," 
said  Harold,  with  some  bitterness. 

"  [N'ot  so,"  answered  Arthur,  warmly.  "  I  love 
my  country — so  well,  indeed,  that  I  cannot  be 
aroused  into  hostility  to  any  section  of  it.  My 
reason  does  not  admit  the  necessity  for  civil  war, 
and  it  becomes  therefore  a  sacred  obligation 
with  me  to  give  my  voice  against  the  doctrine 
of  coercion.      My  judgment  may   err,   or  my 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  gl 

sensibilities  may  be  '  too  full  of  tlic  milk  of 
liiiman  kindness '  to  serve  the  stern  exigencies 
of  the  crisis  with  a  Spartan's  callousness  and  a 
Roman's  impenetrability ;  but  for  you  to  affirm 
that,  because  true  to  my  own  opinions,  I  must  be 
false  to  my  country,  is  to  deny  me  that  inde- 
pendence of  thought  to  wliich  my  country,  as  a 
nation,  owes  its  existence  and  its  grandeur." 

"You  boast  your  patriotism,  and  yet  you 
seem  to  excuse  those  who  seek  the  dismember- 
ment of  your  country." 

"I  do  not  excuse  them,  but  I  would  not  have 
them  judged  harshly,  for  I  believe  they  have 
act(id  under  provocation." 

•^'What  provocation  can  justify  rebellion 
against  a  government  so  beneficent  as  ours  ?'' 

''  I  will  not  pretend  to  justify,  because  I  think 
there  is  much  to  be  forgiven  on  either  side.  But 
if  anything  can  palliate  the  act,  it  is  that  system 
of  determined  hostility  which  for  years  has  been 
levelled  against  an  institution  which  they  believe 
to  be  righteous  and  founded  upon  divine  pre- 
cept. But  I  think  this  is  not  the  hour  for  justi- 
fication or  for  crimination.  I  am  convinced  that 
the  integrity  of  the  Union  can  only  be  preserved 


62  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

by  withliolding  the  armed  iiand  at  this  crisis. 
And  pray  Heaven,  our  government  may  forbear 
to  strike !" 

"Would  you,  then,  have  our  flag  trampled 
upon  with  impunity,  and  our  government  con- 
fessed a  cipher,  because,  forsooth,  you  have  a 
constitutional  repugnance  to  the  severities  of 
warfare?  Away  with  such  sickly  sentimental- 
ity !  Such  theories,  if  carried  into  practice, 
would  reduce  us  to  a  nation  of  political  dwarfs 
and  puny  drivellers,  fit  only  to  grovel  at  the 
footstools  of  tyrants." 

"I  could  better  bear  an  insult  to  our  flag 
than  a  deathblow  to  our  nationality.  And  I  feel 
that  our  nationality  would  not  survive  a  struggle 
between  the  sections.  There  is  no  danger  that 
we  should  be  dwarfed  in  intellect  or  spirit  by 
practising  forbearance  toward  our  brothers." 

"Is  treason  less  criminal  because  it  is  the 
treason  of  brother  against  brother  ?  If  so,  then 
must  a  traitor  of  necessity  go  unpunished,  since 
the  nature  of  the  crime  requires  that  the  culprit 
be  your  countryman.  How  hollow  are  your 
arguments  when  applied  to  existing  facts !" 

"  You  foro^et  that  I  counsel  moderation  as  an 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  63 

expediency,  as  even  a  necessity,  for  the  public 
good.  It  were  poor  policy  to  compass  the  conn- 
try's  ruin  for  the  sake  of  bringing  chastisement 
■uj)on  error." 

"  That  can  be  but  a  questionable  love  of  coun- 
try that  would  humiliate  a  government  to  the  act 
of  parleying  with  rebellion." 

"  My  love  of  country  is  not  confined  to  one 
section  of  the  country,  or  to  one  division  of  my 
countrymen.  The  lessons  of  the  historic  past 
have  taught  me  otherwise.  If,  when  a  school- 
boy, poring  over  the  pages  of  my  country's 
history,  I  have  stood,  in  imagination,  with  Pres- 
cott  at  Bunker  Hill,  and  stormed  with  Ethan 
Allien  at  the  gates  of  Ticonderoga,  I  have  also 
mourned  with  Washington  at  Yalley  Forge, 
and  followed  Marion  and  Sumter  through  the 
wilds  of  Carolina.  If  I  have  fancied  myself  at 
work  with  Yankee  sailors  at  the  guns,  and 
poured  the  shivering  broadside  into  the  Guer- 
riere,  I  have  helped  to  man  the  breastworks  at 
'New  Orleans,  and  seen  the  ranks  that  stood 
firm  at  Waterloo  wavering  before  the  blaze  of 
Southern  rifies.  K  I  have  read  of  the  hardy 
Northern   volunteers    on    the    battle-plains   of 


64  FORT    LATATETTE;    OR, 

Mexico  ;  I  remember  tlie  Palmetto  boys  at  Cbe- 
rubusco,  and  the  brave  Mississippians  at  Buena 
Yista.  Is  it  a  wonder,  then,  that  my  heart- 
strings ache  when  I  see  the  links  breaking  that 
bind  me  to  such  memories  ?  If  I  would  have 
the  Government  parley  awhile  for  the  sake  of 
peace,  even  although  the  strict  law  sanction  the 
bayonet  and  cannon,  I  do  it  in  the  name  of  the 
sacred  past,  when  the  ties  of  brotherhood  were 
strong.  I  counsel  not  humiliation  nor  submis- 
sion, but  conciliation.  I  counsel  it,  not  only  as 
an  expedient,  but  as  a  tribute  to  the  affinities  of 
almost  a  century.  I  love  the  Union  too  well 
to  be  willing  that  its  fate  should  be  risked  upon 
the  uncertainties  of  war.  I  believe  in  my  con- 
science that  the  chances  of  its  reconstructiou 
depend  rather  upon  negotiation  than  upon 
battles.  I  may  err,  or  you,  as  my  o^^ponent 
in  opinion,  may  err;  for  while  I  assume  not 
infallibility  for  myself,  I  deny  it,  with  justice,  to 
my  neighbor.  But  I  think  as  my  heart  and 
intellect  dictate,  and  my  patriotism  should  not 
be  questioned  by  one  as  liable  to  error  as  myself. 
Should  I  yield  my  honest  convictions  upon  a 
question  of  such  vital  importance  as  my  coun- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  05 

try's  welfare,  then  indeed  should  I  be  a  traitor 
to  my  country  and  myself.  But  to  accuse  me 
of  questionable  patriotism  for  my  independence 
of  thought,  is,  in  itself,  treason  against  God  and 
man." 

"  I  believe  you  sincere  in  your  convictions, 
Arthur,  not  because  touched  by  your  argument, 
but  because  I  have  known  you  too  long  and 
well  to  believe  you  capable  of  an  unworthy 
motive.  But  what,  in  the  name  of  common 
justice,  would  you  have  us  do,  w^lien  rebellion 
already  thunders  at  the  gates  of  our  citadels 
w^tli  belching  cannon  ?  Shall  we  sit  by  our 
iiresides  and  nod  to  the  music  of  their  artil- 
lery ?" 

"  I  would  have  every  American  citizen,  in 
this  crisis,  as  in  all  others,  divest  himself  of  all 
prejudice  and  sectional  feeling  :  I  would  have 
him  listen  to  and  ponder  upon  the  opinions  of 
liis  fellow  citizens,  and,  with  the  exercise  of  his 
best  judgment,  to  discard  the  bad,  and  take 
counsel  from  the  good  ;  then,  I  would  have  him 
conclude  for  himself,  not  whether  his  flag  has 
been  insulted,  or  whether  there  are  injuries  to 
avenge,  or  criminals  to  be  punished,  but  what 


66  FORT    LATAYETTE;    OR, 

is  best  and  surest  to  be  done  for  the  welfare  of 
bis  country.  If  be  believe  tbe  Union  can  only 
be  preserved  by  war,  let  bis  voice  be  for  war ; 
if  by  peace,  let  bim  counsel  peace,  as  I  do,  from 
my  heart ;  if  he  remain  in  doubt,  let  him  incline 
to  peace,  secure  that  in  so  doing  he  will  best 
obey  the  teachings  of  Christianity,  the  laws  of 
humanity,  and  the  mighty  voice  that  is  speaking 
from  the  soul  of  enlightenment,  pointing  out  the 
errors  of  the  past,  and  disclosing  the  secret  of 
human  happiness  for  the  future." 

Arthur's  eye  kindled  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
flush  of  excitement,  to  which  he  was  habitually 
a  stranger,  colored  his  pale  cheek.  Oriana  had 
awakened  with  the  vehemence  of  his  language, 
and  gazing  with  interest  upon  his  now  animated 
features,  had  been  listening  to  his  closing  words. 
Harold  was  about  to  answer,  when  suddenly  the 
baying  of  a  hound  broke  through  the  noise  of 
the  storm. 

"  Tliat  is  a  bloodhound !"  exclaimed  Harold 
with  an  accent  of  surprise. 

''  Oh,  no,"  said  Oriana.  ''  There  are  no  blood- 
bounds  in  this  neighborhood,  nor  are  they  at  all 
in  use,  I  am  sure,  in  Yirginia." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  6Y 

"  I  am  not  mistaken,"  replied  Harold.  "  I 
have  been  made  familiar  with  their  baying  while 
surveying  on  the  coast  of  Florida.     Listen  !" 

The  deep,  full  tones  came  swelling  upon  the 
night  wind,  and  fell  with  a  startling  distinctness 
■upon  the  ear. 

"It's  my  hound.  Mister  Hare,"  said  a  low, 
coarse  voice  at  the  doorway,  and  Seth  Kawbon 
entered  the  cabin  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 


08  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTER  YI. 

"  It's  my  hound,  Miss  Weems,  and  I  guess 
lie's  on  the  track  of  that  nigger,  Jim." 

Oriana  started  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  and 
rising  to  her  feet,  looked  upon  the  man  with 
such  an  expression  of  contempt  and  loathing 
that  the  ruffian's  brow  gi-ew  black  with  anger  as 
he  returned  her  gaze.  Harold  confronted  him, 
and  spoke  in  a  low,  earnest  tone,  and  between 
his  clenched  teeth : 

"  If  you  are  a  man  you  will  go  at  once.  This 
persecution  of  a  woman  is  beneath  even  your 
brutahty.  If  you  have  an  account  with  me,  I 
will  not  balk  you.  But  relieve  her  from  the 
outrage  of  your  presence  here." 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  be  around,"  rej)lied  Eaw- 
bon,  coolly,  as  he  leaned  against  the  door,  with 
his  hands  in  his  coat  pocket.  "Tliat  dog  is 
dangerous  when  he's  on  the  scent.  You  see. 
Miss  Weems,"  he  continued,  speaking  over 
Harold's    shoulder,    "  my  niggers    are    plaguy 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  59 

troublesome,  and  I  keep  the  lioiind  to  cow  them 
down  a  trifle.  But  he  wouldn't  hurt  a  ladj,  I 
think — unless  I  happened  to  encourage  him  a 
bit,  do  jou  see." 

And  the  man  showed  his  black  teeth  with  a 
grin  that  caused  Oriana  to  shudder  and  turn 
awaj. 

Harold's  brow  was  like  a  thunder-cloud,  from 
beneath  which  his  eyes  flashed  like  the  light- 
ning at  midnight. 

"  Your  words  imply  a  threat  which  I  cannot 
understand.     EuflSan !     What  do  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  no  good  to  you,  my  buck !" 

His  lip,  with  the  deep  cut  upon  it,  curled 
with  hate,  but  he  still  leaned  coolly  against  the 
door,  though  a  quick  ear  might  have  caught  a 
click,  as  if  he  had  cocked  a  pistol  in  his  pocket. 
It  was  a  habit  with  Harold  to  go  unarmed. 
Fearless  and  self-reliant  by  nature,  even  upon 
his  surveying  expeditions  in  wild  and  out  of  the 
way  districts,  he  carried  no  weapon  beyond 
sometimes  a  stout  oaken  stafi".  But  now,  his 
form  dilated,  and  the  muscles  of  his  arm  con- 
tracted, as  if  he  were  about  to  strike.  Oriana 
understood  the  movement  and  the  danger.     She 


70  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

advanced  quietly  but  quickly  to  his  side,  and 
took  his  hand  within  her  own. 

"  He  is  not  worth  your  anger,  Harold.  For 
my  sake,  Harold,  do  not  provoke  him  further," 
she  added  softly,  as  she  drew  him  from  the 
spot. 

At  this  moment  the  baying  of  the  hound  was 
heard,  apparently  in  close  proximity  to  the 
hovel,  and  presently  there  was  a  heavy  breath- 
ing and  snuffling  at  the  threshold,  followed  by  a 
bound  against  the  door,  and  a  howl  of  rage  and 
impatience.  [N'othing  prevented  the  entrance 
of  the  animal  except  the  form  of  Kawbon, 
who  still  leaned  quietly  against  the  rude  frame, 
which,  hanging  upon  leathern  hinges,  closed  the 
aperture. 

There  was  something  frightful  in  the  hoarse 
snarling  of  the  angry  beast,  as  he  dashed  his 
his  heavy  shoulder  against  the  rickety  frame- 
work, and  Oriana  shrank  nervously  to  Harold's 
side. 

"Secure  that  dog!"  he  said,  as,  while  sooth- 
ing the  trembling  girl,  he  looked  over  his 
shoulder  reproachfully  at  Rawbon.  His  tone 
was  low,  and  even  gentle,  but  it  was  tremulous 


LOYE    AND    SECESSION.  71 

with  passio:\.  But  the  man  gave  no  answer, 
and  continued  leering  at  them  as  before. 

Arthur  walked  to  him  and  spoke  almost  in  an 
accent  of  entreaty. 

"  Sir,  for  the  sake  of  your  manhood,  take 
away  your  dog  and  leave  us." 

He  did  not  answer. 

The  hound,  excited  by  the  sound  of  voices, 
redoubled  his  efforts  and  his  fury.  Oriana  was 
sinking  into  Harold's  arms. 

"  This  must  end,"  he  muttered.  "  Arthur, 
take  her  from  me,  she's  fainting.  I'll  go  out 
and  brain  the  dog." 

"  ]N'ot  yet,  not  yet,"  whispered  Arthur.  "  For 
her  sake  be  calm,"  and  while  he  received  Oriana 
upon  one  arm,  with  the  other  he  sought  to  stay 
his  friend. 

But  Harold  seized  a  brand  from  the  fire,  and 
sprang  toward  the  door. 

"  Stand  from  the  door,"  he  shouted,  lifting 
the  brand  above  Eawbon's  head.  "  Leave  that, 
I  say  !" 

Rawbon's  lank  form  straightened,  and  in  an 
instant  the  revolver  flashed  in  the  glare  of  the 
fagots. 


72  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

He  did  not  slioot,  but  his  face  grew  black 
with  passion. 

"  By  God  !  you  strike  me,  and  I'll  set  the  dog 
at  the  woman." 

At  the  sound  of  his  master's  voice,  the  hound 
set  up  a  yell  that  seemed  unearthly.  Harold 
was  familiar  with  the  nature  of  the  species,  and 
even  in  the  extremity  of  his  anger,  his  anxiety 
for  Oriana  withheld  his  arm. 

"  Look  you  here  !"  continued  Rawbon,  losing 
his  quiet,  mocking  tone,  and  fairly  screaming 
with  excitement,  "do  you  see  this?"  He 
pointed  to  his  mangled  lip,  from  which,  by  the 
action  of  his  jaws  while  talking,  the  plaster  had 
just  been  torn,  and  the  blood  was  streaming  out 
afresh.  "Do  you  see  this?  I've  got  that  to  settle 
with  you.  ril  hunt  you,  by  G— d !  as  that  hound 
hunts  a  nigger.  ISTow  see  if  I  don't  spoil  that 
pretty  face  of  yours,  some  day,  so  that  she  won't 
look  so  sweet  on  you  for  all  your  pretty  talk." 

He  seemed  to  calm  abruptly  after  this,  put 
up  his  pistol,  and  resumed  the  wicked  leer. 

""What  would  you  have?"  at  last  asked 
Arthur,  mildly  and  with  no  trace  of  anger  in 
his  voice. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  73 

Kawboii  liirned  to  him  with  a  searching 
glance,  and,  after  a  pause,  said : 

"  Terms." 

"What?" 

"  I  want  to  make  terms  with  you." 

"  About  what  ?" 

"  About  this  whole  affair." 

"  Well.     Go  on." 

"  I  know  you  can  hurt  me  for  this  with  the 
law,  and  I  know  you  mean  to.  E^ow  I  want  this 
matter  hushed  up." 

Harold  would  have  spoken,  but  Arthur  im- 
plored him  with  a  glance,  and  answered : 

"  What  assurance  can  you  give  us  against 
your  outrages  in  the  future  ?" 

"None." 

"  None !  Then  why  should  we  compromise 
with  you  ?" 

"  Because  I've  got  the  best  hand  to-night,  and 
you  know  it.  For  her,  you  know,  you'll  do  'most 
anything — now,  won't  you  ?" 

The  fellow's  complaisant  smile  caused  Arthur 

to  look    away   with   disgust.      He    turned    to 

Harold,  and  they  were  conferring  about  Haw- 

bon's  strange  proposition,  when  Oriana  raised 

4 


74  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

liei'  head  siicldenlj  and  her  face  assumed  an 
expression  of  attention,  as  if  her  ear  had  canght 
a  distant  sound.  She  had  not  forgotten  little 
Phil,  and  knowing  his  sagacity  and  faithfnhiess, 
she  depended  mnch  npon  his  having  followed 
her  instructions.  And  indeed,  a  moment  after, 
the  j^lashing  of  the  hoofs  of  horses  in  the  wet  soil 
could  be  distinctly  heard. 

"  Them's  my  overseer  and  his  man,  I  guess," 
said  Rawbon,  with  composure,  and  he  smiled 
again  as  he  observed  how  effectually  he  had 
checked  the  gleam  of  joy  that  had  lightened 
Oriana's  face. 

"  'Twas  he,  you  see,  that  set  the  dog  on  Jim's 
track,  and  now  he's  following  after,  that's  all." 

He  had  scarcely  concluded,  when  a  vigorous 
and  excited  voice  was  heard,  shouting  :  "  There 
'tis  ! — there's  the  hut,  gentlemen!     Push  on !" 

"  It  is  my  brother !  my  brother !"  cried  Oriana, 
clasping  her  hands  with  joy ;  and  for  the  first 
time  that  night  she  burst  into  tears  and  sobbed 
on  Harold's  shoulder. 

Pawbon's  face  grew  livid  with  rage  and  dis- 
appointment. He  flung  open  the  door  and 
sprang  out  into  the  open  air ;  but  Oriana  could 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  75 

see  him  pause  an  instant  at  the  threshold,  and 
stooping,  point  into  tlie  cabin.  The  low  hissing 
word  of  command  that  accompanied  the  action 
reached  her  ear.  She  knew  what  it  meant  and 
a  faint  shriek  burst  from  her  lips,  more  perhaps 
from  horror  at  the  demoniac  cruelty  of  the  man, 
than  from  fear.  The  next  moment,  a  gigantic 
bloodhound,  gaunt,  mud -bespattered  and  with 
the  froth  of  fury  oozing  from  his  distended  jaws, 
plunged  through  the  doorway  and  stood  glaring 
in  the  centre  of  the  cabin. 

Oriana  stood  like  a  sculptured  ideal  of  terror, 
white  and  immovable  ;  Harold  with  his  left 
arm  encircled  the  rigid  form,  while  his  right 
hand  was  uplifted,  weaponless,  but  clenched 
with  the  energy  of  despair,  till  the  blood-drops 
burst  from  his  palm.  But  Arthur  stepped 
before  them  both  and  fixed  his  calm  blue  eyes 
upon  the  monster's  burning  orbs.  There  was 
neither  fear,  nor  excitement,  nor  irresolution  in 
that  steadfast  gaze — it  was  like  the  clear, 
straightforward  glance  of  a  father  checking  a 
wayward  child — even  the  habitual  sadness  lin- 
gered in  the  deep  azure,  and  the  features  only 
changed  to   be  cast   in  more   placid  mold.     It 


76  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

was  the  struggle  of  a  brave  and  tranquil  soul 
with  the  ferocious  instincts  of  the  brute.  The 
hound,  crouched  for  a  deadly  spring,  was  fasci- 
nated by  this  spectacle  of  the  utter  absence  of 
emotion,  ffis  huge  chest  heaved  like  a  billow 
with  his  labored  respiration,  but  the  regular 
breathing  of  the  being  that  awed  him  was  like 
that  of  a  sleeping  child.  For  full  five  minutes — 
but  it  seemed  an  age — this  silent  but  terrible 
duel  was  being  fought,  and  yet  no  succor  came. 
Beverly  and  those  who  came  with  him  must 
have  changed  their  course  to  pursue  the  fleeing 
Rawbon. 

"  Lead  her  out  softly,  Harold,"  murmured 
Arthur,  without  changing  a  muscle  or  altering 
his  gaze.  But  the  agony  of  suspense  had  been 
too  great — Oriana,  with  a  convulsive  shudder, 
swooned  and  hung  like  a  corpse  upon  Harold's 
arm. 

"  Oh,  God !  she  is  dying,  Arthur !"  he  could 
not  help  exclaiming,  for  it  was  indeed  a  counter- 
part of  death  that  he  held  in  his  embrace. 

Then  only  did  Arthur  falter  for  an  instant, 
and  the  hound  was  at  his  throat.  The  powerful 
jaws  closed  with  a  snap  upon  his  shoulder,  and 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  77 

you  iniglit  have  heard  the  sharp  faDgs  grate 
against  the  bone.  The  shock  of  the  spring 
brought  Arthur  to  the  ground,  and  man  and 
brute  rolled  over  together,  and  struggled  in  the 
mud  and  gore.  Harold  bore  the  lifeless  girl  out 
into  the  air,  and  returning,  closed  the  door. 
lie  seized  a  brand,  and  ^vnh  both  hands  levelled 
a  fierce  blow  at  the  dog's  neck.  The  stick  shiv- 
ered like  glass,  but  the  creature  only  shook  his 
grisly  head,  but  never  quit  his  hold.  With  his 
bare  hand  he  seized  the  live  coals  from  the 
thickest  of  the  fire  and  pressed  them  against  the 
flanks  and  stomach  of  the  tenacious  animal ;  the 
brute  howled  and  quivered  in  every  limb,  but 
still  the  blood-stained  fangs  were  firmly  set  into 
the  lacerated  flesh.  With  both  hands  clasped 
around  the  monster's  throat,  he  exerted  his 
strength  till  the  finger-bones  seemed  to  crack, 
lie  could  feel  the  pulsations  of  the  dog's  heart 
grow  fainter  and  slower,  and  could  see  in  his 
rolling  and  upheaved  eyeballs  that  the  death- 
pang  was  upon  him ;  but  those  iron  jaws  still 
were  locked  in  the  torn  shoulder;  and  as  Harold 
beheld  the  big  drops  start  from  his  friend's  ashy 
brow,  and  his  eyes  filming  with  the  leaden  hue 


78  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

of  unconsciousness,  tlie  agonizing  thought  came 
to  him  that  the  clog  and  the  man  were  dying 
together  in  that  terrible  embrace. 

It  was  then  that  he  fairly  sobbed  with  the 
sensation  of  relief,  as  he  heard  the  prancing  of 
steeds  close  by  the  cabin-door;  and  Beverly, 
entering  hastily,  with  a  cry  of  horror,  stood  one 
moment  aghast  as  he  looked  on  the  frightful 
scene.  Then,  with  repeated  shots  from  his 
revolver,  he  scattered  the  dog's  brains  over 
Arthur's  blood-stained  bosom. 

Harold  arose,  and,  faint  and  trembling  with 
excitement  and  exhaustion,  leaned  against  the 
wall.  Beverly  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  wounded 
man,  and  placed  his  hand  above  his  heart. 
Harold  turned  to  him  with  an  anxious  look. 

"  He  has  but  fainted  from  loss  of  blood,"  said 
Beverly.     "Harold,  where  is  my  sister?" 

As  he  spoke,  Oriana,  who,  in  the  fresh  night 
air,  had  recovered  from  her  swoon,  pale  and 
with  dishevelled  hair,  appeared  at  the  cabin-door. 
Harold  and  Beverly  sought  to  lead  her  out 
before  her  eyes  fell  upon  Arthur's  bleeding 
form ;  but  she  had  already  seen  the  pale,  calm 
face,  clotted  with  blood,  but  with  the  beautiful 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  ^9 

Bad  smile  still  lingering  upon  the  parted  lips. 
She  appeared  to  see  neither  Harold  nor  her 
brother,  but  only  those  tranquil  features,  above 
which  the  angel  of  Death  seemed  already  to 
have  brushed  his  dewy  wing.  She  put  aside 
Beverly's  arm,  which  was  extended  to  support 
her,  and  thrust  him  away  as  if  he  had  been  a 
strano^er.  She  unloosed  her  hand  from  Harold's 
affectionate  grasp,  and  with  a  long  and  sup- 
pressed moan  of  intense  anguish,  she  kneeled 
down  in  the  little  pool  of  blood  beside  the 
extended  form,  with  her  hands  tightly  clasped, 
and  wept  bitterly. 

They  raised  her  tenderly,  and  assured  her  that 
Arthur  was  not  dead. 

''  Oh,  no !  oh,  no !"  she  murmured,  as  the 
tears  streamed  out  afresh,  "he  must  not  die! 
He  must  not  die  for  me!  He  is  so  good!  so 
brave  1  A  child's  heart,  with  the  courage  of  a 
lion.    Oh,  Harold  !  why  did  you  not  save  him  V 

But  as  she  took  Harold's  hand  almost  re- 
proachfully, she  perceived  that  it  was  black  and 
burnt,  and  he  too  was  suffering ;  and  she  leaned 
her  brow  upon  his  bosom  and  sobbed  with  a 
new  sorrow. 


80  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

Beverly  was  almost  vexed  at  the  weakness  liis 
sister  displayed.  It  was  unusual  to  her,  and  he 
forgot  her  weariness  and  the  trial  she  had 
passed.  He  had  been  binding  some  linen  about 
Arthur's  shoulder,  and  he  looked  up  and  spoke 
to  her  in  a  less  gentle  tone. 

"Oriana,  you  are  a  child  to-night.  I  have 
never  seen  you  thus.  Come,  help  me  with  this 
bandage." 

She  sighed  heavily,  but  immediately  ceased  to 
weep,  and  said  "Yes,"  calmlj  and  with  firm- 
ness. Bending  beside  her  brother,  without 
faltering  or  shrinking,  she  gave  her  white 
fingers  to  the  painful  task. 

In  the  stormy  midnight,  by  the  fitful  glare  of 
the  dying  embers,  those  two  silent  men  and 
that  pale  woman  seemed  to  be  keeping  a  vigil 
in  an  abode  of  death.  And  the  pattering  rain 
and  moan  of  the  night-wind  sounded  like  a 
dirge. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  81 


CHAPTEE  yn. 

Several  gentlemen  of  tlie  neighborhood, 
whom  Beverly,  upon  hearing  little  Phil's  story, 
had  hastily  summoned  to  his  assistance,  now 
entered  the  cabin,  together  with  the  male 
negi'oes  of  his  household,  who  had  mounted  the 
fiirm  horses  and  eagerly  followed  to  the  rescue 
of  their  young  mistress.  They  had  been  detained 
without  by  an  unsuccessful  pursuit  of  Kawbon, 
whose  flight  they  had  discovered,  but  who  had 
easily  evaded  them  in  the  darkness.  A  rude 
litter  was  constructed  for  Arthur,  but  Oriana 
declared  herself  well  able  to  proceed  on  horse- 
back, and  would  not  listen  to  any  suggestion  of 
delay  on  her  account.  She  mounted  Beverly's 
horse,  while  he  and  Harold  supplied  themselves 
from  amouo;  the  horses  that  the  neijjroes  had 
rode,  and  thus,  slowly  and  silently,  they  threaded 
the  lonely  forest,  while  ever  and  anon  a  groan 
fi'om  the  litter  struck  painfully  upon  their  ears. 
4* 


82  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

Arrived  at  tlie  manor  house,  a  physician  who 
had  been  summoned,  pronounced  Arthur's  hurt 
to  be  serious,  but  not  dangerous.  Upon  receiv- 
ing this  intelligence,  Oriana  and  Harold  were 
persuaded  to  retire,  and  Beverly  and  his  aunt 
remained  as  watchers  at  the  bedside  of  the 
wounded  man. 

Oriana,  despite  her  agitation,  slept  well,  her 
rest  being  only  disturbed  by  fitful  dreams,  in 
which  Arthur's  pale  face  seemed  ever  present, 
now  smiling  upon  her  mournfully,  and  now 
locked  in  the  repose  of  death.  She  arose  some- 
what refreshed,  though  still  feverish  and  anxious, 
and  walking  upon  the  veranda  to  breathe  the 
morning  air,  she  was  joined  by  Harold,  with  his 
hand  in  a  sling,  and  much  relieved  by  the  appli- 
cation of  a  poultice,  which  the  skill  of  Miss 
Eandolph  had  prepared.  He  informed  her  that 
Ai'thur  was  sleeping  quietly,  and  that  she  might 
dismiss  all  fears  as  to  his  safety ;  and  perhaps,  if 
he  had  watched  her  closely,  the  earnest  expres- 
sion of  something  more  than  pleasure  with  which 
she  received  this  assurance,  might  have  given 
him  cause  for  rumination.  Beverly  descended 
soon   afterward,    and   conjfirmed    the   favorable 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  33 

report  from  the  sick  chamber,  and  Oriana 
retired  into  the  house  to  assist  in  preparing  the 
morning  meal. 

"  Let  us  take  a  stroll  by  the  riverside,"  said 
Beverly;  "the  air  breathes  freshly  after  my 
night's  vigil." 

"  The  storm  has  left  none  but  traces  of  beauty 
behind,"  observed  Harold,  as  they  crossed  the 
lawn.  The  loveliness  of  the  early  morning  was 
indeed  a  pleasant  sequel  to  the  rude  tempest  of 
the  preceding  night.  The  dewdrops  glistened 
upon  grass-blade  and  foliage,  and  the  bosom  of 
the  stream  flashed  merrily  in  the  sunbeams. 

"It  is,"  answered  Beverly,  "as  if  mture 
were  rejoicing  that  the  war  of  the  elements  is 
over,  and  a  peace  proclaimed.  Would  that  the 
black  cloud  upon  our  political  horizon  had  as 
happily  passed  away." 

After  a  pause,  he  continued  :  "  Harold,  you 
need  not  fear  to  remain  with  us  a  while  longer. 
I  am  sure  that  Kawbon's  confederates  are  heartily 
ashamed  of  their  participation  in  last  night's 
outrage,  and  will  on  no  account  be  seduced  to  a 
similar  adventure.  Eawbon  himself  will  not  be 
likely  to  show  himself  in  this  vicinity  for  some 


84  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

time  to  come,  unless  as  the  inmate  of  a  jail,  for 
I  have  ordered  a  warrant  to  be  issued  against 
him.  The  whole  affair*  has  resulted  evidently 
from  some  unaccountable  antipathy  which  the 
fellow  entertains  against  us." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  replied  Harold,  "but 
still  I  think  this  is  an  unpropitious  time  for  the 
prolongation  of  my  visit.  There  are  events,  I 
fear,  breeding  for  the  immediate  future,  in  which 
I  must  take  a  part.  I  shall  only  remain  with 
you  a  few  days,  that  I  may  be  assured  of 
Arthur's  safety." 

"  I  will  not  disguise  from  you  my  impression 
tliat  Virginia  will  withdraw  from  the  Union. 
Li  that  case,  we  will  be  nominal  enemies.  God 
grant  that  our  paths  may  not  cross  each 
other." 

"  Amen  !"  replied  Harold,  with  much  feeling. 
"  But  I  do  not  understand  why  we  should  be 
enemies.  You  surely  will  not  lend  your  voice 
to  this  rebellion  ?" 

"  "When  the  question  of  secession  is  before  the 
people  of  my  State,  I  shall  cast  my  vote  as  my 
judgment  and  conscience  shall  dictate.  Mean- 
while I  shall   examine  the  issue,  and,  I  trust, 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  85 

dispassionately.  But  whatever  may  become  of 
my  individual  opinion,  where  Virginia  goes  1 
go,  wliatever  be  the  event." 

"  Would  you  upliold  a  wrong  in  the  face  of 
your  own  conscience  ?" 

*'  Oh,  as  to  that,  I  do  not  hold  it  a  question 
between  right  and  wrong,  but  simply  of  advisa- 
bility. The  right  of  secession  I  entertain  no 
doubt  about." 

"  K"o  doubt  as  to  the  right  of  dismembering 
and  destroying  a  government  which  has  fostered 
your  infancy,  developed  your  strengtli,  and 
made  you  one  among  the  parts  of  a  nation  that 
has  no  peer  in  a  world's  history  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  intellect  and  honesty  can  harbor  such  a 
doctrine  !" 

"  My  dear  Harold,  you  look  at  the  subject  as 
an  enthusiast,  and  you  allow  your  heart  not  to 
assist  but  to  control  your  brain.  Men,  by  asso- 
ciation, become  attached  to  forms  and  symbols, 
so  as  in  time  to  believe  that  u])on  their  existence 
depends  the  substance  of  which  they  are  but 
the  signs.  Forty  years  ago,  in  tho  Hawaiian 
Islands,  the  death-penalty  was  inflicted  upon  a 
native  of  the  inferior  caste,  should  he  chance  to 


86  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

pass  over  tlie  shadow  of  one  of  noble  birth 
So  would  yon  avenge  an  insult  to  a  shadow, 
while  jou  allow  the  substance  to  be  stolen  from 
your  grasp.  Our  jewel,  as  freemen,  is  the  right 
of  self-government ;  the  form  of  government  is 
a  mere  convenience — a  machine,  which  may  be 
dismembered,  destroyed,  remodelled  a  thousand 
times,  without  detriment  to  the  great  principle 
of  which  it  is  the  outward  sign." 

"  You  draw  a  picture  of  anarchy  that  would 
disgrace  a  confederation  of  petty  savage  tribes. 
What  miserable  apology  for  a  government  would 
that  be  whose  integrity  depends  upon  the  caprice 
of  the  governed  ?" 

"It  is  as  likely  that  a  government  should 
become  tyi-annical,  as  that  a  people  should  be- 
come capricious.  You  have  simply  chosen  an 
unfair  word.  For  cajyrice  substitute  will^  and 
you  have  my  ideal  of  a  true  republic." 

"  And  by  that  ideal,  one  State,  by  its  indi- 
vidual act,  might  overturn  the  entire  system 
adopted  for  the  convenience  and  safety  of  the 
whole." 

"  I^ot  so.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  system 
should  be  overturned  because  circumscribed  in 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  87 

limit,  more  than  tliat  a  business  firm  sliould 
necessarily  be  ruined  by  the  withdrawal  of  a 
partner.  Observe,  Harold,  that  the  General 
Government  was  never  a  sovereignty,  and  came 
into  existence  only  by  the  consent  of  each  and 
every  individual  State.  The  States  were  the 
sovereignties,  and  their  connection  with  the 
Union,  being  the  mere  creature  of  their  will, 
can  exist  only  by  that  will." 

"Why,  Beverly,  you  might  as  well  argue 
that  this  pencil-case,  which  became  mine  by 
an  act  of  volition  on  your  part,  because  you 
gave  it  me,  ceases  to  be  mine  when  you  re- 
claim it." 

"If  I  had  appointed  you  my  amanuensis,  and 
had  transferred  my  pencil  to  you  simj)ly  for  the 
purposes  of  your  labor  in  my  behalf,  when  I 
choose  to  dismiss  you,  I  should  expect  the  return 
of  my  property.  The  States  made  no  gifts  to 
the  Federal  Government  for  the  sake  of  giving, 
but  only  delegated  certain  powers  for  specific 
purposes.  Tliey  never  could  have  delegated  the 
power  of  coercion,  since  no  one  State  or  number 
of  States  possessed  that  power  as  against  their 
sister  States." 


88  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  But  surely,  in  entering  into  the  bonds  of 
union,  tliey  formed  a  contract  with  each  othei 
which  should  be  inviolable." 

"  Then,  at  the  worst,  the  seceding  States  are 
guilty  of  a  breach  of  contract  with  the  remain- 
ino:  States,  but  not  with  the  General  Govern- 
ment,  with  which  they  made  no  contract.  They 
formed  a  union,  it  is  true.  But  of  what  ?  Of 
sovereignties.  IIow  can  those  States  be  sove- 
reignties which  admit  a  power  above  them, 
possessing  tlie  right  of  coercion  ?  To  admit  the 
right  of  coercion  is  to  deny  the  existence  of 
sovereignity." 

"  You  can  find  nothing  in  the  Constitution  to 
intimate  the  right  of  secession." 

"  Because  its  framers  considered  the  right 
sufficiently  established  by  the  very  nature  of 
the  confederation.  The  fears  upon  the  subject 
that  were  expressed  by  Patrick  Henry,  and 
other  zealous  supporters  of  State  Eights,  were 
quieted  by  the  assurances  of  the  opposite  party, 
who  ridiculed  the  idea  that  a  convention, 
similar  to  that  which  in  each  State  adopted 
the  Constitution,  could  not  thereafter,  in  repre- 
sentation  of  the  popular  will,  withdraw   such 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  89 

Stale  from  tlic  confederacy.  You  have,  in  proof 
of  this,  but  to  refer  to  the  annals  of  tlie 
occasion." 

"  I  discard  the  theory  as  utterly  inconsistent 
with  any  legislative  power.  AVe  have  either  a 
government  or  we  have  not.  If  we  have  one,  it 
must  possess  within  itself  the  power  to  sustain 
itself.  Our  chief  magistrate  becomes  otherwise 
a  mere  puppet,  and  our  Congress  a  shallow 
mockery,  and  the  shadow  only  of  a  legislative 
body.  Our  nationality  becomes  a  word,  and 
notliing  more.  Our  place  among  the  nations 
becomes  vacant,  and  the  great  Republic,  our 
pride  and  the  world's  wonder,  crumbles  into 
fragments,  and  with  its  downfall  perishes  the 
hope  of  the  oppressed  of  every  clime.  I  won- 
der, Beverly,  that  you  can  coldly  argue  against 
the  very  life  of  your  country,  and  not  feel  the 
parricide's  remorse !  Have  you  no  lingering 
aifection  for  the  glorious  structure  whicli  our 
fathers  built  for  and  bequeathed  to  us,  and 
which  you  now  seek  to  hurl  from  its  founda- 
tions? Have  you  no  pride  and  love  for  the 
brave  old  flag  that  has  been  borne  in  the  van- 
guard to  victory  so  often,  that  has  shrouded  the 


90  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

lifeless  form  of  Lawrence,  that  has  gladdened  the 
heart  of  the  American  wandering  in  foreign 
climes,  and  has  spread  its  sacred  folds  over 
the  head  of  Washington,  here,  on  your  own 
native  soil  ?" 

"  Yes,  Harold,  yes !  I  love  the  Union,  and  I 
love  and  am  proud  of  the  brave  okl  flag;  I 
would  die  for  either,  and,  although  I  reason 
with  you  coldly,  my  soul  yearns  to  them  both, 
and  my  heart  aches  when  I  think  that  soon, 
perhaps,  they  will  no  more  belong  to  me.  But 
I  must  sacrifice  even  my  pride  and  love  to  a 
stern  sense  of  duty.  So  Washington  did,  when 
he  hurled  his  armed  squadrons  against  the 
proud  banner  of  St.  George,  under  which  he 
had  been  trained  in  soldiership,  and  had  won 
the  laurel  of  his  early  fame.  He,  too,  no  doubt, 
was  not  without  a  pang,  to  be  sundered  from  his 
share  of  Old  England's  glorious  memories,  the 
land  of  his  allegiance,  the  king  wl\om  he  had 
served,  the  soil  where  the  bones  of  his  ancestors 
lay  at  rest.  It  would  cause  me  many  a  throb 
of  agony  to  draw  my  sword  against  the  stand- 
ard of  the  Eepublic — but  I  would  do  it,  Harold, 
if  my  conscience  bade  me,  althougli  my  nearest 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  91 

friends,  althoiigli  you,  Harold— and  I  love  you 
dearly — were  in  tlie  foremost  rank." 

"  Where  I  will  strive  to  be,  sliould  my  coun- 
try call  ui)on  me.  But  Heaven  forbid  that  we 
should  meet  thus,  Beverly  !" 

"  Heaven  forbid  ?"  he  replied,  with  a  sigh,  as 
he  pressed  Harold's  hand.  "  But  yonder  comes 
little  Phil,  running  like  mad,  to  tell  us,  doubt- 
less, that  breakfast  is  cold  with  waiting  for  us." 

They  retraced  their  steps,  and  found  Miss 
Kandolph  and  Oriana  awaiting  their  presence  at 
the  breakfast-table. 


92  FORT    LAPAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEK   Yin. 

DuKiNG  the  four  succeeding  days,  the  house 
hold  at  Riverside  manor  were  much  alarmed 
for  Arthur's  safety,  for  a  violent  fever  had 
ensued,  and,  to  judge  from  the  physician's 
evasive  answers,  the  event  was  doubtful.  The 
family  were  unremitting  in  their  attentions,  and 
Oriana,  quietly,  but  with  her  characteristic  self- 
will,  insisted  upon  fulfilling  her  share  of  the 
duties  of  a  nurse.  And  no  hand  more  gently 
smoothed  the  sick  man's  pillow  or  administered 
more  tenderly  the  coolins:  draus^ht.  It  seemed 
that  Arthur's  sleep  was  calmer  when  her  form 
was  bending  over  him,  and  even  when  his 
thoughts  were  wandering  and  his  eyes  were 
restless  with  delirium,  they  turned  to  welcome 
her  as  she  took  her  accustomed  seat.  Once, 
while  she  watched  there  alone  in  the  twilight, 
the  open  book  unheeded  in  her  hand,  and  her 
subdued  eyes  bent  thoughtfully  upon  his  face 
as  he  slept  unconscious  of  her  presence,  slie  saw 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  93 

the  wliite  lips  move  and  heard  tlie  murmur  of 
the  low,  musical  voice.  Her  fair  head  was  bent 
to  catch  the  words — they  were  the  words  of 
delirium  or  of  dreams,  but  they  brought  a 
blush  to  her  cheek.  And  yet  she  bent  her  head 
still  lower  and  listened,  until  her  forehead 
rested  on  the  pillow,  and  when  she  looked 
up  again  with  a  sigh,  and  fixed  her  eyes 
mechanically  on  the  page  before  her,  there  was 
a  trace  of  tears  upon  the  drooping  lashes. 

He  awoke  from  a  refreshing  slumber  and  it 
seemed  that  the  fever  was  gone  ;  for  his  glance 
was  calm  and  clear,  and  the  old  smile  was  upon 
his  lips.  When  he  beheld  Oriana,  a  slight  flush 
passed  over  his  cheek. 

"Are  you  indeed  there.  Miss  Weems,"  he 
said,  "  or  do  I  still  dream  ?  I  have  been  dream- 
ing, I  know  not  what,  but  I  was  very  happy." 
He  sighed,  and  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  he  longed 
to  woo  back  the  vision  which  had  fled.  She 
seemed  to  know  what  he  had  been  dreaming, 
for  while  his  cheek  paled  again,  hers  glowed 
like  an  autumn  cloud  at  sunset. 

"  I  trust  you  are  much  better,  Mr.  Wayne  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  much  better.      I  fear  I  have  been 


94  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

very  troublesome  to  you  all.  You  have  been 
very  kind  to  me." 

''  Do  not  speak  so,  Mr.  WayDe,"  slie  replied, 
and  a  tear  glistened  in  her  eyes.  "  If  you  knew 
how  grateful  we  all  are  to  you !  You  have 
suffered  terribly  for  my  sake,  Mr.  Wayne.  You 
have  a  brave,  pure  heart,  and  I  could  hate 
myself  with  thinking  that  1  once  dared  to  wrong 
and  to  insult  it." 

"  In  my  turn,  I  say  do  not  speak  so.  I  pray 
you,  let  there  be  no  thoughts  between  us  that 
make  you  unhappy.  What  you  accuse  yourself 
of,  I  have  forgotten,  or  remembei'  only  as  a 
passing  cloud  that  lingered  for  a  moment  on  a 
pure  and  lovely  sky.  There  must  be  no  self- 
reproaches  between  us  twain,  Miss  Weems,  for 
we  must  become  strangers  to  each  other  in  this 
world,  and  when  we  part  I  would  not  leave 
with  you  one  bitter  recollection." 

There  was  sorrow  in  his  tone,  and  the  young 
girl  paused  awhile  and  gazed  through  the  lattice 
earnestly  into  the  gathering  gloom  of  evening. 

"  We  must  not  be  strangers,  Mr.  Wayne." 

"  Alas  !  yes,  for  to  be  otherwise  were  fatal, 
at  least  to  me." 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  95 

She  did  not  answer,  and  both  remained  silent 
and  thoughtful,  so  long,  indeed,  that  the  night 
shadows  obscured  the  room.  Oriana  arose  and 
lit  the  lamp. 

"  I  must  go  and  prepare  some  supper  for 
you,"  she  said,  in  a  lighter  tone. 

He  took  her  hand  as  she  stood  at  his  bed- 
side and  spoke  in  a  low  but  earnest  voice : 

"  You  must  forget  what  I  have  said  to  you, 
Miss  "Weems.  I  am  weak  and  feverish,  and  my 
brain  has  been  wandering  among  misty  dreams. 
If  I  have  spoken  indiscreetly,  you  will  forgive 
me,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  It  is  I  that  am  to  be  forgiven,  for  allowing 
my  patient  to  talk  when  the  doctor  prescribes 
silence.  I  am  going  to  get  your  supper,  for  I 
am  sure  you  must  be  hungry ;  so,  good  bye," 
she  added  gaily,  as  she  smoothed  the  pillow, 
and  glided  from  the  room.  Oriana  was  silent 
and  reserved  for  some  days  after  this,  and 
Harold  seemed  also  to  be  disturbed  and  ill  at 
ease.  Some  link  appeared  to  be  broken  between 
them,  for  she  did  not  look  into  his  eyes  with  the 
same  frank,  trusting  gaze  that  had  so  often 
returned  his  glance  of  tenderness,  and   some- 


90  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

times  even  she  looked  fm-tively  away  witL 
lieiglitened  color,  when,  with  some  gentle  com- 
monplace, his  voice  broke  in  upon  her  medita- 
tion. Arthur  was  now  able  to  sit  for  some  hours 
daily  in  his  easy-chair,  and  Oriana  often  came 
to  him  at  such  times,  and  although  they  con- 
versed but  rarely,  and  upon  indifferent  themes, 
she  was  never  weary  of  reading  to  him,  at  his 
request,  some  favorite  book.  And  sometimes,  as 
the  author's  sentiment  found  an  echo  in  her  heart, 
she  would  pause  and  gaze  listlessly  at  the  wil- 
low branches  that  waved  before  the  casement, 
and  both  would  remain  silent  and  pensive,  till 
some  member  of  the  family  entered,  and  broke 
in  upon  their  revery. 

"  Come,  Oriana,"  said  Harold,  one  afternoon, 
"  let  us  walk  to  the  top  of  yonder  hillock,  and 
look  at  this  glorious  sunset." 

She  went  for  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and 
joined  him.  They  had  reached  the  summit  of 
the  hill  before  either  of  them  broke  silence, 
and  then  Oriana  mechanically  made  some  com- 
monplace remark  about  the  beauty  of  the 
western  sky.  He  replied  with  a  monosyllable, 
and  sat  down  upon  a  moss-covered  rock.     She 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  97 

plucked  a  few  wild-flowers,  and  toyed  with 
tliem. 

"  Oriana,  Artliur  is  nnich  better  now." 

"  Much  better,  Harold." 

"  1  have  no  fears  for  his  safety  now.  I  think 
I  shall  go  to-morrow." 

"Go,  Harold?" 

"  Yes,  to  l^ew  York.  The  President  has 
appealed  to  the  States  for  troops.  I  am  no 
soldier,  but  I  cannot  remain  idle  while  my 
fellow  citizens  are  rallying  to  arms." 

"  Will  you  fight,  Harold  ?" 

"  K  needs  be." 

"  Against  your  countrymen  ?" 

"  Against  traitors." 

"  Against  me,  perhaps." 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  the  blood  of  any  of  your 
kin  should  be  upon  my  hands.  I  know  how 
much  you  have  suffered,  dearest,  with  the 
thought  that  this  unhappy  business  may  sepa- 
rate us  for  a  time.  Think  you  that  the  eye  of 
affection  could  fail  to  notice  your  dejection  and 
reflective  mood  for  some  days  past  ?" 

Her  face  grew  crimson,  and  she  tore  nervously 
the  petals  of  the.  flower  in  her  hand. 


98  rORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  Oriana,  yon  are  mj  betrothed,  and  no 
earthly  discords  should  sever  our  destinies  or 
estrange  our  hearts.  Why  should  we  part  at 
all.  Be  mine  at  once,  Oriana,  and  go  with  me 
to  the  loyal  ISTorth,  for  none  may  tell  how  soon 
a  barrier  may  be  set  between  your  home  and 
me." 

"  That  would  be  treason  to  my  kindred  and 
the  home  of  my  birth." 

"  And  to  be  severed  from  me — would  it  not 
be  treason  to  your  heart  ?" 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  Beverly  about  it,  and  he 
will  not  seek  to  control  you.  "\Ye  are  most 
nnhappy,  Oriana,  in  our  national  troubles  ;  why 
should  we  be  so  in  our  domestic  ties.  We  can 
be  blest,  even  among  the  rude  alarms  of  war. 
This  strife  will  soon  be  over,  and  you  shall  see 
the  old  homestead  once  again.  But  while  the 
dark  cloud  lowers,  I  call  upon  you,  in  the  name 
of  your  pledged  affection,  to  share  my  fortunes 
with  me,  and  bless  me  with  this  dear  hand." 

That  hand  remained  passively  within  his  own, 
but  her  bosom  swelled  with  emotion,  and  pre- 
sently the  large  tears  rolled  upon  her  cheek. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  99 

He  would  have  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  but 
she  gently  turned  from  him,  and  sinking  upon 
the  sward,  sobbed  through  her  clasped  fingers. 

"  Why  are  you  thus  unhappy,  dear  Oriana  ?" 
he  murmured,  as  he  bent  tenderly  above  her. 
"  Surely  you  do  not  love  me  less  because  of  this 
poison  of  rebellion  that  infects  the  land.  And 
with  love,  woman's  best  consolation,  to  be  your 
comforter,  why  should  you  be  unhappy  ?" 

She  arose,  pale  and  excited,  and  raised  his 
hand  to  her  lips.  The  act  seemed  to  him  a 
strange  one  for  an  affianced  bride,  and  he  gazed 
upon  her  with  a  troubled  air. 

"  Let  us  go  home,  Harold." 

"  But  tell  me  that  you  love  me." 

She  placed  her  two  hands  lightly  about  his 
neck,  and  looked  up  mournfully  but  steadily 
into  his  face. 

"  I  will  be  your  true  wife,  Harold,  and  pray 
heaven  I  may  love  you  as  you  deserve  to  be 
loved.  But  I  am  not  well  to-day,  Harold. 
Let  us  speak  no  more  of  this  now,  for  there 
is  something  at  my  heart  that  must  be  quieted 
with  penitence  and  prayer.  Oh,  do  not  ques- 
tion me,  Harold,"   she    added,   as    she   leaned 


100  ^'ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

her  clieek  upon  ]iis  breast ;  "  we  will  talk  with 
Beverly,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  be  stronger 
and  less  foolish.  Come,  Harold,  let  ns  go 
home." 

She  placed  her  arm  within  his,  and  they 
walked  silently  homeward.  When  they  reached 
the  house,  Oriana  was  hastening  to  her  chamber, 
but  she  lingered  at  the  threshold,  and  returned 
to  Harold. 

"  I  am  not  well  to-night,  and  shall  not  come 
down  to  tea.  Good  night,  Harold.  Smile  upon 
me  as  you  were  wont  to  do,"  she  added,  as  she 
pressed  his  hand  and  raised  her  swollen  eyes, 
beneath  whose  white  lids  were  crushed  two  tear- 
drops that  were  striving  to  burst  forth.  "  Give 
me  the  smile  of  the  old  time,  and  the  old  kiss, 
Harold,"  and  she  raised  her  forehead  to  receive 
it.  Do  not  look  disturbed  ;  I  have  but  a  head- 
ache, and  shall  be  well  to-morrow.  Good 
night — dear — Harold. ' ' 

She  strove  to  look  pleasantly  as  she  left  the 
room,  but  Harold  was  bewildered  and  anxious, 
and,  till  the  summons  came  for  supper,  he  paced 
the  veranda  with  slow  and  meditative  steps. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  101 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  following  morning  was  warm  and  spring- 
like, and  Arthur  was  sufficiently  strong  and  well 
to  walk  out  a  little  in  the  open  air.  He  had 
been  seated  upon  the  veranda  conversing  with 
Beverly  and  Harold,  when  the  latter  proposed  a 
stroll  with  Beverly,  with  whom  he  wished  to 
converse  in  relation  to  his  proposed  marriage. 
As  the  beams  of  the  imclouded  sun  had  already 
chased  away  the  morning  dew,  and  the  air  was 
warm  and  balmy,  Arthur  walked  out  into  the 
garden  and  breathed  the  freshness  of  the  atmos- 
phere with  the .  exhilaration  of  a  convalescent 
freed  for  the  first  time  from  the  sick-room. 
Accidentally,  or  by  instinct,  he  turned  his  steps 
to  the  little  grove  which  he  knew  was  Oriana's 
favorite  haunt ;  and  there,  indeed,  she  sat,  upon 
the  rustic  bench,  above  which  the  drooping 
limbs  of  the  willow  formed  a  leafy  canopy. 
Tlie  pensive  girl,  her  white  hand,  on  which  she 
leaned,   buried   among   the   raven   tresses,  waa 


102  FORT    LAl^AYETTE;    OR, 

gazing  fixedly  into  the  depths  of  the  clear  sky, 
as  if  she  sought  to  penetrate  that  azure  veil,  and 
find  some  hope  realized  among  the  mysteries  of 
the  space  beyond.  The  neglected  volume  had 
fallen  from  her  laj),  and  lay  among  the  blue- 
bells at  her  feet.  Arthm-'s  feeble  steps  were 
unheard  upon  the  sward,  and  he  had  taken 
his  seat  beside  her,  before,  conscious  of  an  intru- 
der, she  started  from  her  dream. 

"  The  first  pilgrimage  of  my  convalescence  is 
to  your  bower,  my  gentle  nurse.  1  have  come 
to  thank  you  for  more  kindness  than  I  can  ever 
repay,  except  with  grateful  thoughts." 

She  had  risen  when  she  became  aware  of  his 
presence;  and  when  she  resumed  her  seat,  it 
seemed  with  hesitation,  and  almost  an  effort,  as 
if  two  impulses  were  struggling  within  her. 
But  lier  pleasure  to  see  him  abroad  again  was 
too  hearty  to  be  checked,  and  she  timidly  gave 
him  the  hand  which  his  extended  palm  invited 
to  a  friendly  grasp. 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Wayne,  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you  so  far  recovered." 

"To  your  kind  offices  chiefly  I  owe  it,  and 
those   of  my  good  friends,   your  brother   and 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  193 

Harold,  and  our  excellent  Miss  Eandolpli.  My 
sick-room  lias  been  tlie  test  of  so  much  friend- 
ship, that  I  could  almost  be  sinful  enough  to 
regret  the  returning  health  which  makes  me  no 
longer  a  dependent  on  your  care.  But  you  are 
pale,  Miss  Weems.  Or  is  it  that  my  eyes  are 
unused  to  this  broad  daylight  ?  Indeed,  I  trust 
you  are  not  ill  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  quite  well,"  she  answered;  but 
it  was  with  an  involuntary  sigh  that  was  in  con- 
trast with  the  words.  "  But  you  are  not  strong 
yet,  Mr.  Wayne,  and  I  must  not  let  you  linger 
too  long  in  the  fresh  morning  air.  We  had  best 
go  in  under  shelter  of  the  veranda." 

She  arose,  and  would  have  led  the  way,  but 
he  detained  her  gently  with  a  light  touch  upon 
her  sleeve. 

'*  Stay  one  moment,  I  pray  you.  I  seem  to 
breathe  new  life  with  this  pure  air,  and  the  per- 
fume of  these  bowers  awakens  within  me  an 
inexpressible  and  calm  delight.  I  shall  be  all 
the  better  for  one  tranquil  hour  with  nature  in 
bloom,  if  you,  like  the  guardian  nymph  of  these 
floral  treasures,  will  sit  beside  me." 

He  drew  her  gently  back  into  the  seat,  and 


104:  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

looked  long  and  earnestly  upon  lier  face.  She 
felt  his  gaze,  but  dared  not  return  it,  and  her 
fair  head  drooped  like  a  flower  that  bends 
beneath  the  glance  of  a  scorching  sun. 

"  Miss  Weems,"  he  said  at  last,  but  his  voice 
was  so  low  and  tremulous  that  it  scarce  rose 
above  the  rustle  of  the  swinging  willoTV  boughs, 
"  jou  are  soon  to  be  a  bride,  and  in  your  path 
the  kind  Destinies  will  shower  blessings.  Wlien 
they  wreathe  the  orange  blossoms  in  your  hair, 
aud  you  are  led  to  the  altar  by  the  hand  to 
which  you  must  cling  for  life,  if  I  should  not  be 
there  to  wish  you  joy,  you  will  not  deem,  will 
you,  that  1  am  less  your  friend  ?" 

The  fair  head  drooping  yet  lower  was  her  only 
answer. 

"And  when  you  shall  be  the  mistress  of  a 
home  where  Content  will  be  shrined,  the  com- 
panion of  your  virtues,  and  over  your  thresliold 
many  friends  shall  be  welcomed,  if  I  should 
never  sit  beside  your  hearthstone,  you  will  not, 
will  you,  believe  that  I  have  forgotten,  or  that  I 
could  forget  ?" 

Still  lower  the  fau'  head  drooped,  but  she 
answered  only  with  a  falling  tear. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  105 

*'  I  told  5'ou  the  other  day  that  we  should  be 
strangers  through  life,  and  why,  I  must  not  tell, 
although  perhaps  your  woman's  heart  may  whis- 
per, and  yet  not  condemn  me  for  that  whicli. 
Heaven  knows,  I  have  struggled  against — alas, 
in  vain !  Do  not  turn  from  me.  I  would  not 
breathe  a  word  to  you  that  in  all  honor  you 
should  not  hear,  although  my  heart  seems  burst- 
ing with  its  longing,  and  I  would  yield  my  soul 
with  rapture  from  its  frail  casket,  for  but  one 
moment's  right  to  give  its  secret  wings.  I  will 
bid  you  farewell  to-morrow  " 

"  To-morrow !" 

"  Yes,  the  doctor  says  that  the  sea  air  will  do 
me  good,  and  an  occasion  offers  to-morrow  which 
I  shall  embrace.  It  will  be  like  setting  forth 
upon  a  journey  through  endless  solitudes,  where 
my  only  companions  will  be  a  memory  and  a 
sorrow." 

He  paused  a  while,  but  continued  with  an 
effort  at  composure. 

"  Our  hearts  are  tyrants  to  us.  Miss  Weems, 
and  will  not,  sometimes,  be  tutored  into  silence. 
I  see  that  I  have  moved,  but  I  trust  not  offended 
you." 

5* 


106  I'OI^T   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

^'You  have  not  ofiended,"  slie  murmiired, 
but  in  so  low  a  tone  that  perhaps  the  words 
were  lost  in  the  faint  moan  of  the  swaying 
foliage. 

"What  I  have  said,"  he  continued  earnestly, 
and  taking  her  hand  with  a  gentle  but  respectful 
pressure,  "  has  been  spoken  as  one  who  is  dying 
speaks  with  his  fleeting  breath  ;  for  evermore  my 
lips  shall  be  shackled  against  my  heart,  and  the 
past  shall  be  sealed  and  avoided  as  a  forbidden 
theme.  We  are,  then,  good  fi-iends  at  parting, 
are  we  not  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  And,  believe  me,  I  shall  be  happiest  when  I 
think  that  you  are  happy — for  you  will  be  happy." 

She  sighed  so  deeply  that  the  words  were 
checked  upon  his  lips,  as  if  some  new  emotion 
had  turned  the  current  of  his  thought. 

"Are  you  not  happy?" 

The  tears  that,  in  spite  of  her  endeavor,  burst 
from  beneath  the  downcast  lids,  answered  him  as 
words  could  not  have  done.  He  was  agit-ated 
and  unnerved,  and,  leaning  his  brow  against  his 
hand,  remained  silent  while  she  wept. 

"Harold  is  a  noble  fellow,"  he  said  at  last. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  lOY 

after  a  long  silence,  and  when  she  had  grown 
calmer,  "  and  deserves  to  be  loved  as  I  am  sure 
you  love  him." 

"  Oh,  he  has  a  noble  heart,  and  I  would  die 
rather  than  cause  him  pain." 

"  And  you  love  him  ?" 

"  I  thouorht  I  loved  him." 

The  words  were  faint — hardly  more  than  a 
breath  upon  her  lips;  but  he  heard  them,  and 
his  heart  grew  big  with  an  undefined  awe,  as  if 
some  vague  danger  were  looming  among  the 
shadows  of  his  destiny.  Oriana  turned  to  him 
suddenly,  and  clasped  his  hand  within  her  trem- 
bling fingers. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wayne !  you  must  go,  and  never 
see  me  more.  I  am  standing  on  the  brink  of  an 
abyss,  and  my  heart  bids  me  leap.  I  see  the 
danger,  and,  oh  God !  I  have  prayed  for  power  to 
yhun  it.  -  But  Arthur,  Arthur,  if  you  do  not 
help  me,  I  am  lost.  You  are  a  man,  an  honest 
man,  an  honorable  man,  who  will  not  wrong 
your  friend,  or  tempt  the  woman  that  cannot 
love  you  without  sin.  Oh,  save  me  from  myself 
— from  you — from  the  cruel  wrong  that  I  could 
even  dream  of  against  him  to  whom  I  have 


108  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

sworn  my  Tvoman's  faith.  I  am  a  child  in  yonr 
hands,  Arthm*,  and  in  the  face  of  the  reproach- 
ing Providence  above  me,  I  feel — 1  feel  that  I 
am  at  your  mercy.  I  feel  that  what  yon  speak 
I  mnst  listen  to ;  that  should  yon  bid  me  stand 
beside  yon  at  the  altar,  I  should  not  have  cour- 
age to  refuse.  I  feel,  oh  God !  Arthur,  that  I  love 
yon,  and  am  betrothed  to  Harold.  But  yon  are 
strong — you  have  courage,  will,  the  power  to  defy 
such  weakness  of  the  heart — and  yon  will  save 
me,  for  I  know  yon  are  a  good  and  honest  man." 

As  she  spoke,  with  her  face  upturned  to  him, 
and  the  hot  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  her 
fingers  convulsively  clasped  about  his  hand,  and 
her  form  bending  closer  and  closer  toward  him, 
till  her  cheek  was  resting  on  his  bosom,  Arthur 
shuddered  with  intensity  of  feeling,  and  from  his 
averted  eyes  the  scalding  drops,  that  had  never 
once  before  moistened  their  surface,  betrayed 
how  terribly  he  was  shaken  with  emotion. 

But  while  she  spoke,  rapt  as  they  were  within 
themselves,  they  saw  not  one  who  stood  with 
folded  arms  beside  the  rustic  bench,  and  gazed 
upon  them. 

"  As  God  is  my  hope,"  said  Arthur,"  I  will 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  109 

disarm  temptation.  Fear  not.  From  this  hour 
we  part.  Henceforth  the  living  and  the  dead 
shall  not  be  more  estranged  than  we." 

lie  arose,  but  started  as  if  an  apparition  met 
his  gaze.  Oriana  knelt  beside  him,  and  touched 
her  lips  to  his  hand  in  gratitude.  An  arm  raised 
her  tenderly,  and  a  gentle  voice  murmured  her 
name. 

It  was  n®t  Arthur's. 

Oriana  raised  her  head,  with  a  faint  cry  of 
terror.  She  gasped  and  swooned  upon  the 
intruder's  breast. 

It  was  Harold  Hare  who  held  her  in  his 
arms. 

Arthur,  with  folded  arms,  stood  erect,  but 
pale,  in  the  presence  of  his  friend.  His  eye, 
sorrowful,  yet  calm,  was  fixed  upon  Harold,  as 
if  awaiting  his  angry  glance.  But  Harold 
lookec"  only  on  the  lifefess  form  he  held,  and 
parting  the  tresses  from  her  cold  brow,  his  lips 
rested  there  a  moment  wit.li  such  a  fond  caress 
as  sometimes  a  father  gives  his  child. 

"  Poor  girl !"  he  murmured,  ''  would  that  my 
sorrow  could  avail  for  both.  Arthur,  I  have 
heard  enough  to  know  you  would  not  do  me 


110  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

wrong.  Grief  is  in  store  for  us,  but  let  us  not 
be  enemies." 

Mournfully,  he  gave  bis  band  to  Arthur,  and 
Oriana,  as  she  wakened  from  her  trance,  beheld 
them  locked  in  that  sad  grasp,  like  two  twin 
statues  of  despair. 

They  led  her  to  the  house,  and  then  the  two 
young  men  walked  out  alone,  and  talked 
frankly  and  tranquilly  upon  the  subject.  It  was 
determined  that  both  should  leave  Kiverside 
manor  on  the  morrow,  and  that  Oriana  should 
be  left  to  commune  with  her  own  heart,  and 
take  counsel  of  time  and  meditation.  They 
would  not  grieve  Beverly  with  their  secret,  at 
least  not  for  the  present,  when  his  sister  was  so 
ill  prepared  to  bear  remonstrance  or  reproof. 
Harold  wrote  a  kind  letter  for  Oriana,  in  which 
he  released  her  from  her  pledged  faith,  asking 
only  that  she  should  take  time  to  study  her 
heart,  but  in  no  wise  let  a  sense  of  duty  stand  in 
the  way  of  her  happiness.  He  took  pains  to 
conceal  the  depth  of  his  own  affliction,  and  to 
avoid  whatever  she  might  construe  as  reproach. 

They  would  have  gone  without  an  interview 
with    Oriana,   but    that   would    have     seemed 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  m 

strange  to  Beverly.  However,  Oriana,  although 
pale  and  nervous,  met  them  in  the  morning  with 
more  composure  than  they  had  anticipated. 
Harold,  just  before  starting,  drew  her  aside,  and 
placed  the  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  That  will  tell  you  all  I  would  say,  and  you 
must  read  it  when  your  heart  is  strong  and  firm. 
Do  not  look  so  wretched.  All  may  yet  be  well. 
I  would  fain  see  you  smile  before  I  go." 

But  though  she  had  evidently  nerved  herself 
to  be  composed,  the  tears  would  come,  and  her 
heart  seemed  rising  to  her  throat  and  about  to 
burst  in  sobs. 

"  I  will  be  your  true  wife,  Harold,  and  I  will 
love  you.  Do  not  desert  me,  do  not  cast 
me  from  you.  I  cannot  bear  to  be  so  guilty. 
Indeed,  Harold,  I  will  be  true  and  faithful  to 

you." 

There  is  no  guilt  in  that  young  heart,"  he 
answered,  as  he  kissed  her  forehead.  "  But 
now,  we  must  not  talk  of  love ;  hereafter,  per- 
haps, when  time  and  absence  shall  teach  us 
where  to  choose  for  happiness.  Part  from  me 
now  as  if  I  were  your  brother,  and  give  me  a 
sister's  kiss.     Would  you  see  Arthur  ?" 


112  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

She  trembled  and  wliisj^ered  painfully : 

"  No,  Harold,  no — I  dare  not.  Oh,  Harold, 
bid  him  forget  me." 

"  It  is  better  that  yon  should  not  see  him. 
Farewell !  be  brave.  We  are  good  friends,  re- 
member.    Farewell,  dear  girl." 

Beverly  had  been  waiting  with  the  carriage, 
and  as  the  time  was  short,  he  called  to  Harold. 
Arthur,  who  stood  at  the  carriage  wheel,  simply 
raised  his  hat  to  Oriana,  as  if  in  a  parting 
salute.  He  would  have  given  his  right  hand  to 
have  pressed  hers  for  a  moment ;  but  his  will 
was  iron,  and  he  did  not  once  look  back  as  the 
carriage  whirled  away. 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  113 


CHAPTER  X 

In  the  drawing-room  of  an  elegant  mansion 
in  a  fashionable  quarter  of  the  city  of  E'ew 
York,  toward  the  close  of  April,  a  social  party 
were  assembled,  distributed  mostly  in  small  con- 
versational groups.  The  head  of  the  establish- 
ment, a  pompous,  well-to-do  merchant,  stout, 
short,  and  baldheaded,  and  evidently  well  satis- 
fied with  himself  and  his  position  in  society, 
was  vehemently  expressing  his  opinions  upon  the 
affairs  of  the  nation  to  an  attentive  audience  of 
two  or  three  elderly  business  men,  with  a  ponder- 
ous earnestness  that  proved  him,  in  his  own  esti- 
mation, as  much  au  fait  in  political  affairs  as  in 
the  routine  of  his  counting-room.  An  individual 
of  middle  age,  a  man  of  the  world,  apparently, 
who  was  seated  at  a  side-table,  carelessly  glanc- 
ing over  a  book  of  engravings,  was  the  only 
one  who  occasionally  exasperated  the  pompous 
gentleman  with  contradictions  or  ill-timed  inter- 
ruptions. 


114  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"The  government  must  be  sustained,"  said 
tlie  stout  gentleman,  "  and  we,  the  merchants  of 
the  ISTorth,  will  do  it.  It  is  money,  sir,  monej," 
he  continued,  unconsciously  rattling  the  cojn  in 
his  breeches  pocket,  "  that  settles  every  question 
at  the  present  day,  and  our  money  will  bring 
these  beggarly  rebels  to  their  senses.  They 
can't  do  without  us,  sir.  They  would  be  ruined 
in  six  months,  if  shut  out  from  commercial  inter- 
course with  the  JSTorth." 

"  How  long  before  you  would  be  ruined  by 
the  operations  of  the  same  cause  ?"  inquired  the 
individual  at  the  side-table. 

"  Sir,  we  of  the  [N'orth  hold  the  wealth  of  the 
country  in  our  pockets.  They  can't  fight  against 
our  money — they  can't  do  it,  sir." 

"  Your  ancestors  fought  against  money,  and 
fought  passably  well." 

"  Yes,  sir,  for  the  great  principles  of  human 
liberty." 

"  "Which  these  rebels  believe  they  are  fighting 
for.  You  have  need  of  all  your  money  to  keep 
a  respectable  arm}^  in  the  field.  These  South- 
erners may  have  to  fight  in  rags,  as  insurgents 
generally  do  :  witness  the  struggle  of  your  Eevo- 


LOVE   AND    SECESSION.  115 

lutioii ;  but  until  you  lay  waste  their  corn-fields 
and  drive  off  their  cattle,  they  will  have  full 
stomachs,  and  that,  after  all,  is  the  first  con- 
sideration." 

"  You  are  an  alien,  sir,  a  foreigner ;  you  know 
nothing  of  our  great  institutions;  you  know 
notliing  of  the  wealth  of  the  ]S"orth,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  people." 

"  I  see  a  great  deal  of  bunting  in  the  streets, 
and  hear  any  quantity  of  declamation  at  your 
popular  gatherings.  But  as  I  journeyed  north- 
ward from  'New  Orleans,  I  saw  the  same  in  the 
South — perhaps  more  of  it." 

"And  could  not  distinguish  between  the 
frenzy  of  treason  and  the  enthusiasm  of 
patriotism  ?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  except  that  treason  seemed  more 
earnest  and  unanimous." 

"  You  have  seen  with  the  eyes  of  an  English- 
man— of  one  hostile  to  our  institutions." 

"  Oh,  no ;  as  a  man  of  the  world,  a  traveller, 
without  prejudice  or  passion,  receiving  impres- 
sions and  noting  them.  I  like  your  country  ;  I 
like  your  people.  I  have  observed  foibles  in  the 
North  and  in  the  South,  but  there  is  an  under- 


116  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

cuiTent  of  strong  feeling  and  good  sense  which  I 
have  noted  and  admired.  I  think  your  quarrel 
is  one  of  foibles — one  conceived  in  the  spirit  of 
petulance,  and  about  to  be  prosecuted  in  the 
spirit  of  exaltation.  I  believe  the  professed 
mutual  hatred  of  the  sections  to  be  superficial, 
and  that  it  could  be  cancelled.  It  is  fostered  by 
the  bitterness  of  fanatics,  assisted  by  a  very 
natural  disinclination  on  the  part  of  the  masses 
to  yield  a  disputed  point.  K  hostilities  should 
cease  to-morrow,  you  would  be  better  friends 
than  ever." 

"  But  the  principle,  sir !  The  right  of  the 
thing,  and  the  wrong  of  the  thing!  Can  we 
parley  with  traitors?  Can  we  negotiate  with 
armed  rebellion?  Is  it  not  our  paramount 
duty  to  set  at  rest  forever  the  doctrine  of  seces- 
sion?" 

"  As  a  matter  of  policy,  perhaps.  But  as  a 
right,  I  doubt  it.  Your  government  I  look  upon 
as  a  mere  agency  appointed  by  contracting 
parties  to  transact  certain  aflTairs  for  their  con- 
venience. Should  one  or  more  of  those  con- 
tracting parties,  sovereignties  in  themselves, 
hold  it  to  their  interest  to  transact  their  business 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  II7 

without  the  assistance  of  an  agent,  I  cannot  per- 
ceive that  the  right  can  be  denied  by  any  pro- 
vision of  the  contract.  In  your  case,  the  em- 
ployers have  dismissed  their  agent,  who  seeks  to 
reinstate  the  office  by  force  of  arms.  As 
justly  might  my  lawyer,  when  I  no  longer 
need  his  services,  attempt  to  coerce  me  into 
a  continuance  of  business  relations,  by  invad- 
ing my  residence  with  a  loaded  pistol.  The 
States,  without  extinguishing  their  sovereignty, 
created  the  Federal  Government ;  it  is  the  child 
of  State  legislation,  and  now  the  child  seeks  to 
chastise  and  control  the  parent.  The  General 
Government  can  possess  no  inherent  or  self- 
created  function ;  its  power,  its  very  existence, 
were  granted  for  certain  uses.  As  regards  your 
State's  connection  with  that  Government,  no 
other  State  has  the  right  to  interfere ;  but  as  for 
another  State's  connection  with  it,  the  power 
that  made  it  can  unmake." 

"  So  you  would  have  the  government  quietly 
acquiesce  in  the  robbery  of  public  property,  the 
occupation  of  Federal  strongholds  and  the  seizure 
of  ships  and  revenues  in  which  they  have  but 
a  share  ?" 


118  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

*'  If,  by  the  necessity  of  tlie  case,  the  seceded 
States  hold  in  their  possession  more  than  their 
share  of  public  property,  a  division  should  be 
made  by  arbitration,  as  in  other  cases  where  a 
distribution  of  common  property  is  required. 
It  may  have  been  a  wrong  and  an  insult  to 
bombard  Fort  Sumter  and  haul  down  the  Federal 
flag,  but  that  does  not  establish  a  right  on  the 
part  of  the  Federal  Government  to  coerce  the 
wrong-doing  States  into  a  union  with  the  others. 
And  that,  I  take  it,  is  the  avowed  purpose  of 
your  administration." 

"  Yes,  and  that  purpose  will  be  fulfilled. 
We  have  the  money  to  do  it,  and  we  will  do  it, 
sir." 

A  tall,  thin  gentleman,  with  a  white  cravat 
and  a  bilious  complexion,  approached  the  party 
from  a  difi'erent  part  of  the  room. 

"  It  can't  be  done  with  money,  Mr.  Pursely," 
said  the  new  comer,  '•  Unless  the  great,  the 
divine  principle  of  universal  human  liberty  is 
invoked.  An  offended  but  merciful  Providence 
has  given  the  people  this  chance  for  redemption, 
in  the  opportunity  to  strike  the  shackle  from  the 
slave.     I  hold  the  war  a  blessing  to  the  nation 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  HQ 

and  to  humanity,  in  that  it  will  cleanse  the  land 
from  its  curse  of  slavery.  It  is  an  invitation 
from  God  to  wipe  away  the  record  of  our  past 
tardiness  and  tolerance,  by  striking  at  the  great 
sin  with  fire  and  sword.  The  blood  of  millions 
is  nothing — the  woe,  the  lamentation,  the  ruin 
of  the  land  is  nothing — the  overthrow  of  the 
Union  itself  is  nothing,  if  we  can  but  win  God's 
smile  by  setting  a  brand  in  the  hand  of  the 
bondman  to  scourge  his  master.  But  assuredly 
unless  we  arouse  the  slave  to  seize  the  torch  and 
the  dagger,  and  avenge  the  wrongs  of  his  race, 
Providence  will  frown  upon  our  efforts,  and  our 
arms  will  not  prevail." 

A  tall  man  in  military  undress  replied  with 
considerable  emphasis : 

"Then  your  black-coated  gentry  must  fight 
their  own  battle.  The  people  will  not  arm  if 
abolition  is  to  be  the  watchword.  I  for  one  will 
not  strike  a  blow  if  it  be  not  understood  that 
the  institutions  of  the  South  shall  be  respected." 

"  Tlie  government  must  be  sustained,  that  is 
the  point,"  cried  Mr.  Pursely.  "  It  matters 
little  what  becomes  of  the  negro,  but  the 
government    must    be    sustained.      Otherwise, 


120  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

what  security  will  there  be  for  property,  and 
what  will  become  of  trade  ?" 

"  Who  thinks  of  trade  or  property  at  such  a 
crisis  ?"  interrupted  an  enthusiast,  in  figured 
trowsers  and  a  gay  cravat.  "  Our  beloved  Union 
must  and  shall  be  preserved.  The  fabric  that 
our  fathers  reared  for  us  must  not  be  allowed  to 
crumble.  We  will  prop  it  with  our  mangled 
bodies,"  and  he  brushed  a  speck  of  dust  from 
the  fine  broadcloth  of  his  sleeve. 

"  Tlie  insult  to  our  flag  must  be  wiped  out," 
said  the  military  gentleman.  "  The  honor  of  the 
glorious  stripes  and  stars  must  be  vindicated  to 
the  world." 

"  Let  us   chastise  these  boasting  Southrons," 
^aid    another,    "  and  prove   our   supremacy   in 
arms,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

^'  But  above  all,"  insisted  a  third,  "  we  must 
check  the  sneers  and  exultation  of  European 
powers,  and  show  them  that  we  have  not  for- 
gotten the  art  of  war  since  the  days  of  1776 
and  1812." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  are  going 
to  fight  about,"  said  the  Englishman,  quietly ; 
"  for  there   appears  to  be  much  diversity   of 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  121 

opinion.  However,  if  you  are  determined  to 
cut  each  others'  throats,  perhaps  one  pretext  is 
as  good  as  another,  and  a  dozen  better  than 
only  one." 

In  the  quiet  recess  of  a  window,  shadowed  by 
the  crimsom  curtains,  sat  a  fail*  young  girl,  and 
a  man,  young  and  handsome,  but  upon  whose 
countenance  the  traces  of  dissipation  and  of 
passion  were  deeply  marked.  Miranda  Ayleff 
was  a  Yirginian,  the  cousin  and  quondam  play- 
mate of  Oriana  Weems,  like  her  an  orphan,  and 
a  ward  of  Beverly.  Her  companion  was  Philip 
Searle.  She  had  known  him  in  Richmond,  and 
had  become  much  attached  to  him,^ut  his 
habits  and  character  were  such,  that  her  friends, 
and  Beverly  chiefly,  had  earnestly  discouraged 
their  intimacy.  Philip  left  for  the  JSTorth,  and 
Miranda,  who  at  the  date  of  our  story  was  the 
guest  of  Mrs.  Pursely,  her  relative,  met  him  in 
IS'ew  York,  after  a  separation  of  two  years. 
Philip,  who,  in  spite  of  his  evil  ways,  was  sin- 
gularly handsome  and  agreeable  in  manners, 
found  little  difficulty  in  fanning  the  old  flame, 
and,  upon  the  plea  of  old  acquaintance,  became 
a  frequent  visitor  upon  Miranda  at  Mr.  Pursely's 
6 


1-22  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

mansion,  where  we  now  find  them,  earnestly 
conversing,  but  in  low  tones,  in  the  little  soli- 
tude of  the  great  bay  window. 

"You  reproach  me  with  vices  which  your 
unkindness  has  helped  to  stain  me  with.  Driven 
from  your  presence,  whom  alone  I  cared  to  live 
for,  what  marvel  if  I  sought  oblivion  in  the 
wine-cup  and  the  dice-box?  Give  me  one 
chance,  Miranda,  to  redeem  myself.  Let  me  call 
you  wife,  and  you  will  become  my  guardian 
angel,  and  save  me  from  myself." 

"  You  know  that  I  love  you,  Philip,"  she 
replied,  "  and  willingly  would  I  share  your  des- 
tiny, ho;^ng  to  win  you  from  evil.  Go  with  me 
to  Kichmond.  We  will  speak  with  Beverly,  who 
is  kind  and  truly  loves  me.  We  will  convince 
him  of  your  good  purposes,  and  will  win  his 
consent  to  our  union." 

"ITo,  ^Miranda;  Beverly  and  your  friends  in 
Richmond  will  never  believe  me  worthy  of  you. 
Besides,  it  would  be  dangerous  for  me  to  visit 
Richmond.  I  have  identified  myself  with  the 
ISTorthern  cause,  and  although,  for  your  sake,  I 
might  refrain  from  bearing  arms  against  Yirgi- 
nia,  yet  I  have  little  sympathy  with  any  there, 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  123 

where  I  liave  been  branded  as  a  drunkard  and  a 
gambler." 

"  Yet,  Philip,  is  it  not  the  land  of  your  birth — 
the  home  of  your  boyhood  ?" 

''  The  land  of  my  shame  and  humiliation.  ]N"o, 
Miranda,  I  will  not  return  to  Yirginia.  And  if 
you  love  me,  you  will  not  return.  "What  are 
these  senseless  quarrels  to  us  ?  We  can  be  happy 
in  each  other's  love,  and  forget  that  madmen  are 
at  war  around  us.  "Why  will  you  not  trust  me, 
Miranda — why  do  you  thus  withhold  from  me 
my  onlj  hope  of  redemption  from  the  terrible 
vice  that  is  killing  me  ?  I  put  my  destiny,  my 
very  life  in  your  keeping,  and  you  hesitate  to 
accept  the  trust  that  alone  can  save  me.  Oh, 
Miranda !  you  do  not  love  me." 

"Philip,  I  cannot  renounce  my  friends,  my 
dear  country,  the  home  of  my  childhood." 

"  "Kien  look  you  what  will  be  my  fate :  I  will 
join  the  armies  of  the  ISTorth,  and  fling  away  my 
life  in  battle  against  my  native  soil.  Ruin  and 
death  cannot  come  too  soon  when  you  forsake  me." 

Miranda  remained  silent,  but,  through  the 
gloom  of  the  recess,  he  could  see  the  glistening 
of  a  tear  upon  her  cheek. 


124:  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

The  hall-bell  rang,  and  the  servant  brought  in 
a  card  for  Miss  Ajleff.  Following  it,  Arthur 
Wajne  was  ushered  into  the  room. 

She  rose  to  receive  him,  somewhat  surprised  at 
a  visit  from  a  stranger. 

"  I  have  brought  these  letters  for  jou  from  my 
good  friend  Beverly  Weems,"  said  Arthur.  "At 
his  request,  I  have  ventured  to  call  in  person, 
most  happy,  if  you  will  forgive  the  presumption, 
in  the  opportunity." 

She  gave  her  hand,  and  welcomed  him  grace- 
fully and  warmly,  and,  having  introduced  Mr. 
Searle,  excused  herself  while  she  glanced  at  the 
contents  of  Beverly's  letter.  While  thus  em- 
ployed, Arthur  marked  her  changing  color;  and 
then,  lifting  his  eyes  lest  his  scrutiny  might  be 
rude,  observed  Philip's  dark  eye  fixed  upon  her 
with  a  suspicious  and  searching  expression.  Then 
Philip  looked  up,  and  their  glances  met — the 
calm  blue  eye  and  the  flashing  black — but  for  an 
instant,  but  long  enough  to  confirm  the  instinc- 
tive feeling  that  there  was  no  sympathy  between 
their  hearts. 

A  half-hour's  general  conversation  ensued,  but 
Philip  appeared  restless  and  uneasy,  and  rose  to 


LOYE    AND    SECESSION.  125 

take  liis  leave.  She  followed  liim  to  the  parlor 
door. 

''  Come  to  me  to-morrow,"  she  said,  as  she 
gave  her  hand,  "  and  we  will  talk  again." 

A  smile  of  triumph  rested  upon  his  pale  lips 
for  a  second;  but  he  pressed  her  hand,  and, 
murmuring  an  affectionate  farewell,  withdrew. 

Arthur  remained  a  few  moments,  but  observ- 
ing that  Miranda  was  pensive  and  absent,  he 
bade  her  good  evening,  accepting  her  urgent 
invitation  to  call  at  an  early  period. 


126  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

"  Well,  Ai-thur,"  said  Harold  Hare,  entering 
tiie  room  of  the  former  at  liis  hotel,  on  the  fol- 
lowing evening,  "  I  have  come  to  bid  you  good 
bje.  I  start  for  home  to-morrow  morning,"  he 
added,  in  reply  to  Arthur's  questioning  glance. 
"  I  am  to  have  a  company  of  Providence  boys  in 

my  old  friend  Colonel  K 's  regiment.     And 

after  a  little  brisk  recruiting,  ho !  for  Washing- 
ton and  the  wars !" 

"  You  have  determined  for  the  war,  then  ?" 

"  Of  course.     And  you  ?" 

"  I  shall  go  to  my  Vermont  farm,  and  live 
quietly  among  my  books  and  pastures." 

"  A  dull  life,  Ai'thur,  when  every  wind  that 
blows  will  bring  to  your  ears  the  swell  of  mar- 
tial music  and  the  din  of  arms." 

"  If  I  were  in  love  with  the  pomp  of  war, 
which,  thank  heaven,  I  am  not,  Harold,  I  would 
rather  dwell  in  a  hermit's  cave,  than  follow  the 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  127 

^fe  and  drum  over  the  bodies  of  my  Soutliem 
coimtrjmen." 

^'  Those  Southern  countrymen,  that  you  seem 
to  love  better  than  the  countjy  they  would  ruin, 
would  have  little  remorse  in  marching  over  your 
body,  even  among  the  ashes  of  your  farm-house. 
Doubtless  you  would  stand  at  your  threshold, 
and  welcome  their  butchery,  should  their  ruffian 
legions  ravage  our  land  as  far  as  your  Green 
Mountains." 

"  I  do  not  think  they  will  invade  one  foot 
of  ]N'orthern  soil,  unless  compelled  by  strict 
military  necessity.  However,  should  the  State 
to  which  I  owe  allegiance  be  attacked  by  foreign 
or  domestic  foe,  I  will  stand  among  its  defenders. 
But,  dear  Harold,  let  us  not  argue  this  sad  sub- 
ject, which  it  is  grief  enough  but  to  contemplate. 
Tell  me  of  your  plans,  and  how  I  shall  commu- 
nicate with  you,  while  you  are  absent.  My 
distress  about  this  unhappy  war  will  be  keener, 
when  I  feel  that  my  dear  friend  may  be  its 
victim." 

Harold  pressed  his  hand  affectionately,  and 
the  two  friends  spoke  of  the  misty  future,  till 
Harold   arose   to  depart.     They  had  not  men- 


123  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

tioned  Oriana's  name,  tliougli  slie  was  in  tlieir 
thonglits,  and  each,  as  lie  bade  farewell,  knew 
that  some  i^art  of  the  other's  sadness  was  for  her 
sake. 

Arthur  accompanied  Harold  a  short  distance 
up  Broadway,  and  returning,  found  at  the  office 
of  the  hotel,  a  letter,  without  post-mark,  to  his 
address.  He  stepped  into  the  reading-room  to 
peruse  it.     It  was  from  Beverly,  and  ran  thus  : 

"  PtiCHMOXD,  May  — ,  ISGl. 
"  Deae  Aethue  :  The  departure  of  a  friend  gives  me  an 
opportunity  to  write  you  about  a  matter  that  I  beg  you 
will  attend  to,  for  my  sake,  thoroughly.  I  learned  this 
morning,  upon  receipt  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Pursely,  that 
Miranda  Ayleff,  of  whom  we  spoke  together,  and  to 
whom  I  presume  you  have  already  delivered  my  commu- 
nication, is  receiving  the  visits  of  one  Philip  Searle,  to 
whom,  some  two  years  since,  she  was  much  attached. 
£fitre  nous,  Arthur,  I  can  tell  you,  the  man  is  a  scoundrel 
of  the  deepest  dye.  Xot  only  a  drunkard  and  a  gambler, 
but  dishonest,  and  unfit  for  any  decent  girl's  society.  He 
is  guilty  of  forgery  against  me,  and,  against  my  con- 
science, I  hushed  the  matter  only  out  of  consideration  for 
her  feelings.  I  would  still  have  concealed  the  matter 
from  her,  had  this  resumption  of  their  intimacy  not 
ocourred.     But  her  welfare  must  cancel  all  scruples  of 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  ^gg 

that  character ;  and  I  therefore  entreat  you  to  see  her  at 
once,  and  unmask  the  man  fully  and  unequivocally.  If 
necessary  you  may  show  my  letter  for  that  purpose.  I 
would  go  on  to  New  York  myself  immediately,  were  I  not 
employed  upon  a  State  mission  of  exceeding  delicacy  and 
importance ;  but  I  have  full  confidence  in  your  good 
judgment.  Spare  no  arguments  to  induce  her  to  return 
immediately  to  Eichmond. 

"  Oriana  has  not  been  well ;  I  know  not  what  ails  her, 
but,  though  she  makes  no  complaint,  the  girl  seems  really 
ill.  She  knows  not  of  my  writing,  for  I  would  not  pain 
her  about  Miranda,  of  whom  she  is  very  fond.  But  I  can 
venture,  without  consulting  her,  to  send  you  her  good 
wishes.  Let  me  hear  from  you  in  fuU  about  what  I  have 
written.  Your  friend. 

"  Beverly  TVeems." 

"P.  S.— Knowing  that  you  must  yet  be  weak  with  your 
late  illness,  I  would  have  troubled  Harold,  rather  than 
you,  about  this  matter,  but  I  am  ignorant  of  his  present 
whereabouts,  while  I  know  that  you  contemplated  remain- 
ing a  week  or  so  in  New  York.  Write  me  about  the  ugly 
bite  in  the  shoulder,  from  which  I  trust  you  are  well 
recovered.  B  "W  " 

Arthur  looked  up  from  the  letter,  and  beheld 
Pliilip  Searle  seated  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table.  He  had  entered  while  Arthur's  attention 
Avas  absorbed  in  reading,  and  having  glanced  at 

6* 


130  ^ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

the  address  of  the  envelope  which  lay  upon  the 
table,  he  recognized  the  hand  of  Beverly.  This 
prompted  him  to  pause,  and  taking  np  one  of 
the  newspapers  which  were  strewn  about  the 
table,  he  sat  down,  and  while  he  appeared  to 
read,  glanced  furtively  at  his  vis-d-vis  over  the 
paper's  edge.  "Wlien  his  presence  was  noticed, 
he  bowed,  and  Arthur,  with  a  slight  and  stern 
inclination  of  the  head,  fixed  his  calm  eye  upon 
him  with  a  searching  severity  that  brought  a 
flush  of  anger  to  Philip's  brow. 

"  That  is  Weems'  hand,"  he  muttered,  in- 
wardly, "  and  by  that  fellow's  look,  I  fancy  that 
no  less  a  person  than  myself  is  the  subject  of 
his  epistle." 

Arthur  had  walked  away,  but,  in  his  surprise 
at  the  unexpected  presence  of  Searle,  he  had 
allowed  the  letter  to  remain  uj)on  the  table. 
jSTo  sooner  had  he  passed  out  of  the  room,  than 
Philij)  quietly  but  rapidly  stretched  his  hand 
beneath  the  pile  of  scattered  journals,  and  drew 
it  toward  him.  It  required  but  an  instant  for 
his  quick  eye  to  catch  the  substance.  His  face 
grew  livid,  and  his  teeth  grated  harshly  with 
suppressed  rage. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  131 

"  We  sliall  have  a  game  of  plot  and  counter- 
plot before  this  ends,  my  man,"  he  muttered. 

There  were  pen  and  paper  on  the  table,  and 
he  wrote  a  few  lines  hastily,  placed  them  in  the 
envelope,  and  put  Beverly's  letter  in  his  pocket. 
He  had  hardly  finished  when  Arthur  reentered 
the  room,  advanced  rapidly  to  the  table,  and, 
with  a  look  of  relief,  took  up  the  envelope  and 
its  contents,  and  again  left  the  room.  Philip's 
lip  curled  beneath  the  black  moustache  with  a 
smile  of  triumphant  malice. 

"  Keep  it  safe  in  your  pocket  for  a  few  hours, 
my  gamecock,  and  my  heiress  to  a  beggar-girl, 
I'll  have  stone  walls  between  you  and  me." 


132  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OB, 


CHAPTER   Xn. 

The  evening  was  somewhat  advanced,  but 
Arthur  determined  at  once  to  seek  an  interview 
with  Miss  Ayleff.  Hastily  arranging  his  toilet, 
he  walked  briskly  np  Broadway,  revolving  in 
his  mind  a  fit  course  for  fulfilling  his  delicate 
errand. 

To  shorten  his  way,  he  turned  into  a  cross 
street  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city.  As  he 
approached  the  hall  door  of  a  large  brick  house, 
his  eye  chanced  to  fall  upon  a  man  who  was 
ringing  for  admittance.  The  light  from  the 
street  lamp  fell  full  upon  his  face,  and  he  recog- 
nized the  features  of  Philip  Searle.  At  that 
moment  the  door  was  opened,  and  Philip  en- 
tered. Arthur  would  have  passed  on,  but 
something  in  the  appearance  of  the  house 
arrested  his  attention,  and,  on  closer  scrutiny, 
revealed  to  him  its  character.  One  of  those 
impulses  which  sometimes  sway  our  actions, 
tempted  him  to  enter,  and  learn,  if  possible. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  I33 

something  further  respecting  the  habits  of  the 
man  whose  scheme  he  had  been  commissioned 
to  thwart.  A  moment's  reflection  might  have 
changed  his  purpose,  but  his  hand  was  already 
npon  the  bell,  and  the  summons  was  quickly- 
answered  by  a  good-looking  but  faded  young 
woman,  with  painted  cheeks  and  gay  attire. 
She  fixed  her  keen,  bold  eyes  upon  him  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then,  tossing  her  ringlets, 
pertly  invited  him  to  enter. 

"Who  is  within?"  asked  Arthur,  standing  in 
the  hall. 

"  Only  the  girls.     Walk  in." 

"The  gentleman  who  came  in  before  me,  is 
he  there  ?" 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  him  ?"  she  asked,  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  Oh,  no.  Only  I  would  avoid  bemg  seen  by 
any  one." 

"He  will  not  see  you.  Come  right  in." 
And  she  threw  open  the  door,  and  flaunted  in. 

Arthur  followed  her  without  hesitation. 

Bursts  of  forced  and  cheerless  laughter,  and 
the  shrill  sound  of  rude  and  flippant  talk,  smote 
unpleasantly   upon    his    ear.      The    room   was 


134  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

riclily  funiislied,  but  without  taste  or  modesty. 
The  tall  mirrors  were  displayed  with  ostentation, 
and  the  paintings,  offensive  in  design,  hung  con- 
S]3icuous  in  showy  frames.  The  numerous  gas 
jets,  flashing  among  glittering  crystal  pendants, 
made  vice  more  glaring  and  heartlessness  more 
terribly  apparent.  Women,  with  bold  and  hag- 
gard eyes,  with  brazen  brows,  and  cheeks  from 
which  the  roses  of  virgin  shame  had  been 
plucked  to  bloom  no  more  forever — mostly 
young  girls,  scourging  their  youth  into  old  age, 
and  gathering  poison  at  once  for  soul  and  body 
— with  sensual  indolence  reclined  upon  the  rich 
ottomans,  or  with  fantastic  grace  whirled 
throuo;h  lewd  waltzes  over  the  velvet  car- 
pets.  There  was  laughter  without  joy — there 
was  frivolity  without  merriment — there  was 
the  surface  of  enjoyment  and  the  substance  of 
woe,  for  beneath  those  painted  cheeks  was  the 
pallor  of  despair  and  broken  health,  and  beneath 
those  whitened  bosoms,  half  veiled  with  gaudy 
silks,  were  hearts  that  were  aching  with  remorse, 
or,  yet  more  unhappy,  benumbed  and  callous 
with  habitual  sin. 

Yet  there,  like  a  crushed  pearl  upon  a  heap  of 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  I35 

garbage,  lingers  the  trace  of  beauty ;  and  there, 
surely,  though  sepulchred  in  the  caverns  of  vice, 
dwells  something  that  was  once  innocence,  and 
not  unredeemable.  But  whence  is  the  friendly 
word  to  come,  whence  the  guardian  hand  that 
might  lift  them  from  the  slough.  They  live 
accursed  by  even  charity,  shunned  by  philan- 
thropy, and  shut  from  the  Christian  world  like  a 
ti'ibe  of  lepers  whose  touch  is  contagion  and 
whose  breath  is  pestilence.  In  the  glittering 
halls  of  fashion,  the  high-born  beauty,  with 
wreaths  about  her  white  temples  and  diamonds 
upon  her  chaste  bosom,  gives  her  gloved  hand 
for  the  dance,  and  forgets  that  an  erring  sister, 
by  the  touch  of  those  white  fingers,  might  be 
raised  from  the  grave  of  her  chastity,  and  clothed 
anew  with  the  white  garments  of  repentance. 
But  no  ;  the  cold  world  of  fashion,  that  from  its 
cushioned  pew  has  listened  with  stately  devotion 
to  the  words  of  the  Eedeemer,  has  taught  her 
that  to  redeem  the  fallen  is  beneath  her  caste. 
Hie  bond  of  sisterhood  is  broken.  Tlie  lost  one 
must  pursue  her  hideous  destiny,  each  avenue  of 
escape  blocked  by  the  scorn  and  loathing  which 
denies  her  the  contact  of  virtue  and  the  counsel 


136  I'ORT   LAi'AYETTE;    OR, 

of  pui'ity.  In  tlie  broad  fields  of  charity, 
invaded  bj  cold  philosophers,  losing  themselves 
in  searching  unreal  and  vague  philanthropies, 
none  so  practical  in  beneficence  as  to  take  her 
by  the  hand,  saying,  "  Go,  and  sin  no  more." 

But  whenever  the  path  of  benevolence  is  intri- 
cate and  doubtful,  whenever  the  work  is  linked 
with  a  riddle  whose  solving  will  breed  discord 
and  trouble  among  men,  whenever  there  is  a 
chance  to  make  j)hilanthropy  a  plea  for  hate, 
and  bitterness  and  charity  can  be  made  a  battle- 
cry  to  arouse  the  spirit  of  destruction,  and  spread 
ruin  and  desolation  over  the  fair  face  of  the 
earth,  then  will  the  domes  of  our  churches 
resound  with  eloquence,  then  will  the  journals 
of  the  land  teem  with  their  mystic  theories,  then 
will  the  moui-ners  of  human  woe  be  loud  in 
lamentation,  and  lift  up  their  mighty  voices  to 
cry  down  an  abstract  evil.  When  actual  misery 
appeals  to  them,  they  are  deaf;  when  the  plain 
and  palpable  error  stalks  before  them,  they  turn 
aside.  They  are  too  busy  with  the  tangles  of 
some  philanthropic  Gordian  knot,  to  stretch  out 
a  helping  hand  to  the  sufi'erer  at  their  sides. 
They  are   frenzied  with   their   zeal  to  build  a 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  I37 

bridge  over  a  sj^anless  ocean,  while  the  drowning 
wretch  is  sinking  within  their  grasp.  They 
scorn  the  simple  charity  of  the  good  Samaritan ; 
theirs  must  be  a  gigantic  and  splendid  achieve- 
ment in  experimental  beneficence,  worthy  of 
their  philosophic  brains.  The  wrong  they 
would  redress  must  be  one  that  half  the  world 
esteems  a  right ;  else  there  would  be  no  room 
for  their  arguments,  no  occasion  for  their  invec- 
tive, no  excuse  for  their  passion.  To  do  good  is 
too  simple  for  their  transcendentalism ;  they 
must  first  make  evil  out  of  their  logic,  and  then, 
through  blood  and  wasting  flames,  drive  on  the 
people  to  destruction,  that  the  imaginary  evil 
may  be  destroyed.  While  Charity  soars  so  high 
among  the  clouds,  she  will  never  stoop  to  lift  the 
Magdalen  from  sin. 


138  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEE   Xm. 

Aethtje  heaved  an  iuvoluntaiy  sigh,  as  he 
gazed  upon  those  sad  wrecks  of  -womanhood, 
striving  to  harden  their  sense  of  degradation  bj 
its  impudent  display.  But  an  expression  of 
bewildered  and  sorrowful  surprise  suddenly  over- 
spread his  countenance.  Seated  alone  upon  a 
cushioned  stool,  at  the  chimney-corner,  was  a 
young  woman,  her  elbows  resting  uj)on  her 
knees,  and  her  face  bent  thoughtfully  upon  her 
palms.  She  was  apparently  lost  in  thought  to 
all  around  her.  She  was  thinking — of  what? 
Perhaps  of  the  green  fields  where  she  played  in 
childhood;  perhaps  of  her  days  of  innocence; 
perhaps  of  the  mother  at  whose  feet  she  had 
once  knelt  in  prayer.  But  she  was  far  away,  in 
thought,  from  that  scene  of  infamy  of  which  she 
was  a  part ;  for,  in  the  glare  of  the  gaslight,  a 
tear  struggled  through  her  eyelashes,  and  glit- 
tered like  a  ray  from  heaven  piercing  the  glooms 
of  hell. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  139 

Artliiir  walked  to  her,  and  jDlaced  liis  hand 
Boftly  npon  her  yellow  liair. 

''Oh,  Mary!"  he  murmured,  in  a  tone  of 
gentle  sorrow,  that  sounded  strangely  amid  the 
discordant  merriment  that  filled  tlie  room. 

She  looked  u]),  at  his  touch,  but  when  his 
voice  fell  upon  her  ear,  she  arose  suddenly  and 
stood  before  him  like  one  struck  dumb  betwixt 
humiliation  and  wonder.  The  angel  had  not  yet 
fled  that  bosom,  for  the  blush  of  shame  glowed 
through  the  chalk  upon  her  brow  and  outcrim- 
soned  the  paint  upon  her  cheek.  As  it  passed 
away,  she  would  have  wreathed  her  lip  mechani- 
cally with  the  pert  smile  of  her  vocation,  but 
the  smile  was  frozen  ere  it  reached  her  lips,  and 
the  coarse  words  she  would  have  spoken  died 
into  a  murmur  and  a  sob.  She  sank  down  again 
upon  the  cushion,  and  bent  her  face  low  down 
upon  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  Mary !  is  it  you !  is  it  you !  I  pray 
heaven  your  mother  be  in  her  grave  !" 

She  rose  and  escaped  quickly  from  the  room ; 
but  he  followed  her  and  checked  her  at  the 
stairway. 

"Let  me  speak  with  you,  Mary,  l^o,  not 
here  ;  lead  me  to  your  room."  * 


140  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

He  followed  lier  iip-stairs,  and  closing  the 
door,  sat  beside  lier  as  she  leaned  upon  the  bed 
and  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow. 

It  was  the  child  of  his  old  nurse.  Upon  the 
hill-sides  of  his  native  State  they  had  played 
together  when  children,  and  now  she  lay  there 
before  him,  with  scarce  enough  of  woman's 
nature  left  to  weep  for  her  own  misery. 

"  Mary,  how  is  this  ?  Look  up,  child,"  he 
said,  taking  her  hand  kindly.  "  I  had  rather 
see  you  thus,  bent  low  with  sorrow,  than  bold 
and  hard  in  guilt.  But  yet  look  up  and  speak 
to  me.  I  will  be  your  friend,  you  know.  Tell 
me,  why  are  you  thus?" 

"  Oh,  ^Ii*.  Wayne,  do  not  scold  me,  please 
don't.  I  was  thinking  of  home  and  mother 
when  you  came  and  put  your  hand  on  my  head. 
Mother's  dead." 

"•  "Well  for  her,  poor  woman.  But  how  came 
you  thus  V 

"  I  scarcely  seem  to  know.  It  seems  to  me  a 
dream.  I  married  John,  and  he  brought  me  to 
iN'ew  York.  Then  the  war  came,  and  he  went 
and  was  killed.  And  mother  was  dead,  and  I 
had  no  friends  in  the  great  city.  I  could  get  no 
work,  and  I  was  starving,  indeed   I  was,  Mr. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  141 

Wayne.  So  a  young  man,  wlio  was  very  hand- 
some, and  rich,  I  think,  for  he  gave  me  money 

and  fine  dresses,  he  promised  me Oh,  Mr. 

Wayne,  I  was  very  wrong  and  foolish,  and  I 
wish  I  could  die,  and  be  buried  by  my  poor 
mother." 

"  And  did  he  bring  you  here  ?" 
"  Oh  no,  sir.  I  came  here  two  weeks  ago, 
after  he  had  left  me.  And  when  he  came  in  one 
night  and  found  me  here,  he  was  very  angry, 
and  said  he  would  kill  me  if  I  told  any  one  that 
I  knew  him.  And  I  know  why  ;  but  you  won't 
tell,  Mr.  AYayne,  for  it  would  make  him  angry. 
I  have  found  out  that  he  is  married  to  the  mis- 
tress of  this  house.  He's  a  bad  man,  I  know 
now,  and  often  comes  here  drunk,  and  swears  at 
the  woman  and  the  girls.  Hark!  that's  her 
room,  next  to  mine,  and  I  think  he's  in  there 
now." 

The  faint  sound  of  voices,  smothered  by  the 
walls,  reached  them  from  the  adjoining  cham- 
ber ;  but  as  they  listened,  the  door  of  that 
room  opened,  and  the  loud  and  angry  tones  of 
a  man,  speaking  at  the  threshold,  could  be  dis- 
tinctly heard.      Arthur   quietly  and    carefully 


142  ^ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

opened  tlie  door  of  Mary's  room,  an  incli  or 
less,  and  listened  at  the  aperture.  He  was  not 
mistaken  ;  lie  recognized  the  voice  of  PJiilip 
Searle. 

"  I'll  do  it,  anyhow,"  said  Philip,  angrily,  and 
with  the  thick  utterance  of  one  who  had  been 
drinking.  "I'll  do  it;  and  if  you  trouble  me, 
I'll  fix  you." 

"  Philip,  if  you  marry  that  girl  I'U  peach  ;  I 
will,  so  help  me  G — d,"  replied  a  woman's 
voice.  "I've  given  you  the  money,  and  I've 
given  you  plenty  before,  as  much  as  I  had  to 
give  you,  Philip,  and  you  know  it.  I  don't 
mind  that,  but  you  shan't  marry  till  I'm  dead. 
I'm  your  lawful  wife,  and  if  I'm  low  now,  it's 
your  fault,  for  you  drove  me  to  it." 

"  I'll  drive  you  to  hell  if  you  worry  me.  I 
tell  you  she's  got  lots  of  money,  and  a  farm, 
and  niggers,  and  you  shall  have  half  if  you 
only  keep  your  mouth  shut.  Come,  now,  Molly, 
don't  be  a  fool ;  what's  the  use,  now  ?" 

They  went  down  the  stairway  together,  and 
their  voices  were  lost  as  they  descended.  Arthur 
determined  to  follow  and  get  some  clue,  if  pos- 
sible, as  to  the  man's  intentions.     He  therefore 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  14,3 

gave  his  address  to  Maiy,  and  made  lier  promise 
faitlifiillj  to  meet  him  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, promising  to  befriend  her  and  send  her  to 
his  mother  in  Yermont.  Hearing  the  front  door 
close,  and  surmising  that  Philip  had  departed, 
he  bade  her  good  night,  and  descending  hastily, 
was  upon  the  sidewalk  in  time  to  observe 
Philip's  form  in  the  starlight  as  he  turned  the 
corner. 

It  was  now  ten  o'clock  ;  too  late  to  call  upon 
Miranda  without  disturbing  the  household, 
which  he  desired  to  avoid.  Arthur's  present 
fear  was  that  possibly  an  elopement  had  been 
planned  for  that  night,  and  he  therefore  deter- 
mined, if  practicable,  to  keep  Searle  in  view  till 
he  had  traced  him  home.  The  latter  entered  a 
refreshment  saloon  upon  Broadway  ;  Arthur  fol- 
lowed, and  ordering,  in  a  low  tone,  some  dish 
that  would  require  time  in  the  preparation,  he 
stepped,  without  noise,  into  an  alcove  adjoining 
one  whence  came  the  sound  of  conversation. 

"  Well,  what's  up  ?"  inquired  a  gruff,  coarse 
voice. 

"  Fill  me  some  brandy,"  replied  Philip.  *^  I 
tell   you,  Eradshaw,  it's  risky,  but  I'll  do  it. 


144  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

The  old  woman's  rock.  She'll  blow  upon  me  if 
she  gets  the  chance ;  but  I'm  in  for  it,  and  I'll 
put  it  through.  We  must  manage  to  keep  it 
mum  from  her,  and  as  soon  as  I  get  the  girl  I'll 
accept  the  lieutenancy,  and  be  off  to  the  wars 
till  all  blows  over.  If  Moll  should  smoke  me 
out  there,  I'll  cross  the  line  and  take  sanctuary 
with  Jeff.  Davis. 

"  What  about  the  girl  ?" 

"  Oh,  she's  all  right,"  replied  Philip,  with  a 
drunken  chuckle.  "  I  had  an  interview  with 
the  dear  creature  this  morning,  and  she's  like 
wax  in  my  hands.  It's  all  arranged  for  to-mor- 
row morning.  You  be  sure  to  have  the  carriage 
ready  at  the  Park — the  same  spot,  you  know — 
by  ten  o'clock.  She  can't  well  get  away 
before,  but  that  will  be  time  enough  for  the 
train." 

"  I  want  that  money  now." 

"  Moll's  hard  up,  but  I  got  a  couple  of  hundred 
from  her.  Here's  fifty  for  you ;  now  don't 
grumble,  I'm  doing  the  best  I  can,  d — n  you, 
and  you  know  it.  l^ow  listen — I  want  to  fix 
things  with  you  about  that  blue-eyed  chap." 

The  waiter  here  brought  in  Arthur's  order, 


LOVE   AND   SECESSION.  145 

and  a  sudden  silence  ensued  in  the  alcove.  The 
two  men  had  evidently  been  unaware  of  the 
proximity  of  a  third  party,  and  their  tone, 
though  low,  had  not  been  sufficiently  guarded 
to  escape  Arthur  hearing,  whose  ear,  leaning 
against  the  thin  partition,  was  within  a  few 
inches  of  Philip's  head.  A  muttered  curse  and 
the  gurgling  of  liquor  from  a  decanter  was  all 
that  could  be  heard  for  the  space  of  a  few 
moments,  when  the  two,  after  a  brief  whisper, 
arose  and  left  the  place,  not,  however,  without 
making  ineffectual  efforts  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  occupant  of  the  tenanted  alcove.  Arthur 
soon  after  followed  them  into  the  street.  He  was 
aware  that  he  was  watched  from  the  opposite 
comer,  and  that  his  steps  were  dogged  in  the 
darkness.  But  he  drew  his  felt  hat  well  over  his 
face,  and  by  mingling  with  the  crowd  that 
chanced  to  be  pouring  from  one  of  the  theatres, 
he  avoided  recognition  and  passed  unnoticed  into 
his  hotel. 


14:6  FORT   LAFAYETTE;   OB, 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 

Aethtjk  felt  ill  and  much  fatigued  when  he 
retired  to  rest,  and  was  restless  and  disturbed 
with  fever  throughout  the  night.  He  had  over- 
tasked his  delicate  frame,  yet  scarce  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  recent  suffering,  and  he  arose 
in  the  morning  with  a  feeling  of  prostration  that 
he  could  with  difficulty  overcome.  However, 
he  refreshed  himself  with  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
prepared  to  call  upon  Miss  Ayleff*.  It  was  but 
seven  o'clock,  a  somewhat  early  hour  for  a  morn- 
ing visit,  but  the  occasion  was  one  for  little 
ceremony.  As  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving 
his  room,  there  was  a  peremptory  knock  at  the 
door,  and,  upon  his  invitation  to  walk  in,  a 
stranger  entered.  It  was  a  gentlemanly  per- 
sonage, with  a  searching  eye  and  a  calm  and 
quiet  manner.  Arthur  was  vexed  to  be  delayed, 
but  received  the  intruder  with  a  civil  inclination 
of  the  head,  somewhat  surprised,  however,  that 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  147 

no  card  had  been  sent  to  give  bim  intimation  of 
the  visit. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Arthur  Wayne  ?"  inquired  the 
stranger. 

"I  am  be,"  replied  Arthur.  "Be  seated, 
sir." 

"  I  thank  yon.     My  name  is .     I   am  a 

deputy  United  States  marshal  of  this  district." 

"  Arthur  bowed,  and  awaited  a  further  state- 
ment of  the  purpose  of  bis  visit. 

"You  have  lately  arrived  from  Virginia,  I 
understand  ?" 

"  A  few  days  since,  sir — from  a  brief  sojourn 
in  the  vicinity  of  Eicbmond." 

"And  yesterday  received  a  communication 
from  that  quarter  ?" 

"  I  did.  A  letter  from  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance." 

"  My  office  will  excuse  me  from  an  imputation 
of  inquisitiveness.     May  I  see  that  letter  ?" 

"  Excuse  me,  sir.  Its  contents  are  of  a  private 
and  delicate  nature,  and  intended  only  for  my 
own  perusal." 

"  It  is  because  its  contents  are  of  that  nature 
that  I  am  constrained  to  ask  you  for  it.     Pardon 


14:8  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

me,  Mr.  Wayne ;  but  to  be  brief  and  frank  with, 
you,  I  must  either  receive  that  communication  by 
your  good  will,  or  call  in  my  officers,  and  insti- 
tute a  search.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  make  my 
duty  more  unpleasant  than  necessary." 

Arthur  paused  awhile.  He  was  conscious 
that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  avoid 
complying  with  the  marshal's  request,  and  yet 
it  was  most  annoying  to  be  obliged  to  make  a 
third  party  cognizant  of  the  facts  contained  in 
Beverly's  epistle. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  oppose  you  in  the  per- 
formance of  your  functions,"  he  finally  replied, 
"  but  really  there  are  very  particular  reasons 
why  the  contents  of  this  letter  should  not  be 
made  public." 

A  very  faint  indication  of  a  smile  passed  over 
the  marshal's  serious  face ;  Arthur  did  not 
observe  it,  but  continued  : 

"  I  will  hand  you  the  letter,  for  I  perceive 
there  has  been  some  mistake  and  misapprehen- 
sion which  of  course  it  is  your  duty  to  clear  up. 
But  you  must  promise  me  that,  when  your 
perusal  of  it  shall  have  satisfied  you  that  its 
nature  is  strictly  private,  and  not  ofi'ensive  to 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  14.9 

the  law,  you  will  return  it  me  and  preserve  an 
inviolable  secrecy  as  to  its  contents." 

"  "When  I  shall  be  satisfied  on  that  score,  I 
will  do  as  you  desire." 

Arthur  handed  him  the  letter,  somewhat  to 
the  other's  surprise,  for  he  had  certainly  been 
watching  for  an  attempt  at  its  destruction,  or  at 
least  was  prepared  for  prevarication  and  strata- 
gem. He  took  the  paper  from  its  envelope 
and  read  it  carefully.  It  was  in  the  following 
words : 

Richmond,  May  — ,  1861. 
Dear  Arthur  :  This  will  be  handed  to  you  by  a  sure 
hand.  Communicate  freely  with  the  bearer — ^he  can  be 
trusted.  The  arms  can  be  safely  shipped  as  he  represents, 
and  you  will  therefore  send  them  on  at  once.  Your  last 
communication  was  of  great  service  to  the  cause,  and, 
although  I  would  be  glad  to  have  you  with  us,  the  Pre- 
sident thinks  you  are  too  valuable,  for  the  present, 
where  you  are.  When  you  come,  the  commission  will 
be  ready  for  you.         Yours  truly, 

Beverly  Weems,  Capt.  C.  S.  A. 

"  Are  you  satisfied  ?"  inquired  Arthur,  after 
the  marshal  had  silently  concluded  his  exami- 
nation of  the  document. 


150  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

^'  Perfectly  satisfied,"  replied  the  other,  plac- 
ing the  letter  in  his  pocket.  "  Mr.  "Wayne,  it  is 
my  duty  to  arrest  you." 

"  Arrest  me !" 

"  In  the  name  of  the  United  States." 

"For  what  offence?" 

"  Treason." 

Arthur  remained  for  a  while  silent  with  aston- 
ishment. At  last,  as  the  marshal  arose  and  took 
his  hat,  he  said : 

"  I  cannot  conceive  what  act  or  word  of  mine 
can  be  construed  as  treasonable.  There  is  some 
mistake,  surely ;  I  am  a  quiet  man,  a  stranger 
in  the  city,  and  have  conversed  with  but  one  or 
two  persons  since  my  arrival.  Explain  to  me, 
if  you  please,  the  particular  nature  of  the  charge 
against  me. 

"  It  is  not  my  province,  at  this  moment,  to 
do  so,  Mr.  "Wayne.  It  is  sufficient  that,  upon 
information  lodged  with  me  last  evening,  and 
forwarded  to  Washington  by  telegraph,  I  re- 
ceived from  the  Secretary  of  War  orders  for 
your  immediate  arrest,  should  I  find  the  infor- 
mation true.  I  have  found  it  true,  and  I  arrest 
you." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  151 

"  Surely,  nothing  in  that  letter  can  be  so  mis- 
construed as  to  implicate  me." 

*'  Mr.  Wayne,  this  prevarication  is  as  useless 
as  it  is  unseemly.  You  know  that  the  letter 
is  sufficient  warrant  for  my  proceeding.  My 
carriage  is  at  the  door.  I  trust  you  will  accom- 
pany me  without  further  delay." 

"  Sir,  I  was  about  to  proceed,  when  you  en- 
tered, upon  an  errand  that  involves  the  safety 
and  happiness  of  the  young  lady  mentioned  in 
that  letter.  The  letter  itself  will  inform  you 
of  the  circumstance,  and  I  assure  you,  events 
are  in  progress  that  require  my  immediate 
action.  You  will  at  least  allow  me  to  visit  the 
party?" 

The  marshal  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 

"  What  party  ?" 

"  The  lady  of  whom  my  friend  makes  men- 
tion." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you.  I  can  only  con- 
ceive that,  for  some  purpose  of  your  own,  you 
are  anxious  to  gain  time.  I  must  request  you 
to  accompany  me  at  once  to  the  carriage." 

"  You  will  permit  me  at  least  to  send  a  letter 
— a  word — a  warning  ?" 


152  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  That  your  accomplice  may  receive  informa- 
tion ?     Assuredly  not." 

"  Be  yourself  the  messenger — or  send  " 

"This  subterfuge  is  idle."  He  opened  the 
door  and  stood  beside  it.  "  I  must  request  your 
company  to  the  carriage." 

Arthur's  cheek  flushed  for  a  moment  with 
anger. 

"  This  severity,"  he  said,  "  is  ridiculous  and 
unjust.  I  tell  you,  you  and  those  for  whom 
you  act  will  be  accountable  for  a  great  crime — 
for  innocence  betrayed — for  a  young  life  made 
desolate — ^for  perhaps  a  dishonored  grave.  I 
plead  not  for  myself,  but  for  one  helpless  and 
pure,  who  at  this  hour  may  be  the  victim  of 
a  villain's  plot.  In  the  name  of  humanity,  I 
entreat  you  give  me  but  time  to  avert  the 
calamity,  and  I  will  follow  you  without  remon- 
strance. Go  with  me  yourself.  Be  present  at 
the  interview.  Of  what  consequence  to  you 
will  be  an  hour's  delay  ?" 

"  It  may  be  of  much  consequence  to  those 
who  are  in  league  with  you.  I  cannot  grant 
your  request.  You  must  come  with  me,  sir, 
or  I  shall  be  obliged  to  call  for  assistance," 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION. 


153 


and    lie  drew  a  pair  of   handcuffs    from    his 
pocket. 

Arthur  perceived   that  further  argument  or 

entreaty  would  be  of  no  avail.     He  was  much 

agitated  and  distressed  beyond  measure  at  the 

possible  misfortune  to  Miranda,  which,  by  this 

untimely   arrest,   he  was    powerless    to    avert. 

Knowing  nothing  of  the  true  contents  of  the 

letter  which  Philip  had  substituted  for  the  one 

received  from  Beverly,  he  could  not  imagine  an 

excuse  for  the  marshal's  inflexibility.     He  was 

quite  ill,  too,  and  what  with  fever  and  agitation, 

his  brain  was  in  a  whirl.     He  leaned  against  the 

chair,  faint  and  dispirited.     The  painful  cough, 

the  harbinger  of  that  fatal  malady  which  had 

already  brought    a    sister   to   an   early  grave, 

oppressed  him,  and  the  hectic  glowed  upon  his 

pale  cheeks.     The  marshal  approached  him,  and 

laid  his  hand  gently  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You  seem  ill,"  he  said  ;  "  I  am  sorry  to  be 
harsh  with  you,  but  I  must  do  my  duty.  They 
will  make  you  as  comfortable  as  possible  at  the 
fort.     But  you  must  come." 

Arthur  followed  him  mechanically,  and  like 
one  in  a  dream.     They  stepped  into  the  carriage 
7* 


154  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

and  were  driven  rapidly  away ;  but  Arthur,  as 
lie  leaned  back  exhausted  in  his  seat,  murmured 
sorrowfully  : 

"And    poor    little    Mary,    too!     "Who   will 
befriend  her  now  ?" 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  165 


CHAPTEK  XV, 

In  the  upper  apartment  of  a  cottage  standing 
alone  by  the  roadside  on  the  outskirts  of  Boston, 
Miranda,  pale  and  dejected,  sat  gazing  vacantly 
at  the  light  of  the  solitary  lamp  that  lit  the 
room.  The  clock  was  striking  midnight,  and 
the  driving  rain  beat  dismally  against  the 
window-blinds.  But  one  month  had  passed 
since  her  elopement  with  Philip  Searlo,  yet  her 
wan  cheeks  and  altered  aspect  revealed  how 
much  of  suffering  can  be  crowded  into  that  little 
space  of  time.  She  started  from  her  revery 
when  the  striking  of  the  timepiece  told  the  late- 
ness of  the  hour.  Heavy  footsteps  sounded  upon 
the  stairway,  and,  while  she  listened,  Philip, 
followed  by  Bradshaw,  entered  the  room  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  How  is  this  ?"  asked  Philip,  angrily.    "  Why 
are  you  not  in  bed  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  it  was  so  late,  Philip,"  she 
answered,  in  a  deprecating  tone.     "  I  was  half 


156  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

asleep  upon  tlie  rocking-chair,  listening  to  the 
storm.  It's  a  bad  night,  Philip.  How  wet  you 
are !" 

He  brushed  off  the  hand  she  had  laid  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  muttered,  with  bad  humor : 

"  I've  told  you  a  dozen  times  I  don't  want  you 
to  sit  up  for  me.  Fetch  the  brandy  and  glasses, 
and  go  to  bed." 

"Oh,  Philip,  it  is  so  late!  Don't  drink 
to-night,  Philip.  You  are  wet,  and  you  look 
tired.     Come  to  bed." 

"  Do  as  I  tell  you,"  he  answered,  roughly, 
flinging  himself  into  a  chair,  and  beckoning 
Bradshaw  to  a  seat.  Miranda  sighed,  and 
brought  the  bottle  and  glasses  from  the  closet. 

"  Now,  you  go  to  sleep,  do  you  hear ;  and 
don't  be  whining  and  crying  all  night,  like  a 
sick  girl." 

The  poor  girl  moved  slowly  to  the  door,  and 
turned  at  the  threshold. 

«  Good  night,  Philip." 

"  Oh,  good  night — there,  get  along,"  lie  cried, 
impatiently,  without  looking  at  her,  and  gulping 
down  a  tumblerful  of  spirits.  Miranda  closed 
the  door,  and  left  the  two  men  alone  together. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  157 

They  remained  silent  for  a  while,  Bradshaw 
quietly  sipping  his  liquor,  and  Philip  evidently 
disturbed  and  angry. 

"  You're  sure  'twas  she  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

''  Oh,  bother !"  replied  Bradshaw.  ''  I'm  not 
a  mole  nor  a  blind  man.  Don't  I  know  Moll 
when  I  see  her  ?" 

"Curse  her!  she'll  stick  to  me  like  a  leech. 
"What  could  have  brought  her  here?  Do  you 
think  she's  tracked  me  ?" 

"  She'd  track  you  through  fire,  if  she  once 
got  on  the  scent.  Moll  ain't  the  gal  to  be  fooled, 
and  you  know  it." 

"What's  to  be  done?" 

"  Move  out  of  this.  Take  the  girl  to  Yir- 
ginia.    You'll  be  safe  enough  there." 

"  You're  right,  Bradshaw.  It's  the  best  way. 
I  ought  to  have  done  it  at  first.  But,  hang  the 
girl,  she'll  weary  me  to  death  with  her  ser- 
mons and  crying  fits.  Moll's  worth  two  of  her 
for  that  matter — she  scolds,  but  at  least  she 
never  would  look  like  a  stuck  fawn  when  I 
came  home  a  little  queer.  For  the  matter 
of  that,  she  don't  mind  a  spree  herself  at 
times."     And,  emptying  his  glass,  the  libertine 


158  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

laughed    at    the    remembrance    of   some    past 
orgies. 

While  he  was  thus,  in  his  half-drunken  mood, 
consoling  himself  for  present  perplexities  by 
dwelling  upon  the  bacchanalian  joys  of  other 
days,  a  carriage  drove  up  the  street,  and  stopped 
before  the  door.  Soon  afterward,  the  hall 
bell  was  rung,  and  Philip,  alarmed  and  aston- 
ished, started  from  his  seat. 

"  Who's  that  ?"  he  asked,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  Don't  know,"  replied  his  companion. 

"  She  couldn't  have  traced  me  here  already — 
unless  you  have  betrayed  me,  Bradshaw,"  he 
added  suddenly,  darting  a  suspicious  glance 
upon  his  comrade. 

"You're  just  drunk  enough  to  be  a  fool," 
replied  Bradshaw,  rising  from  his  seat,  as  a 
second  summons,  more  violent  than  the  first, 
echoed  through  the  corridors.  "  I'll  go  down 
and  see  what's  the  matter.  Some  one's  mis- 
taken the  house,  I  suppose.     That's  all." 

"  Let  no  one  in,  Bradshaw,"  cried  Philip,  as 
that  worthy  left  the  room.  He  descended  the 
stairs,  opened  the  door,  and  presently  afterward 
the  carriage  drove  rapidly  away.   Philip,  who  had 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  159 

been  listening  earnestly,  could  hear  the  sound  of 
the  wheels  as  they  whirled  over  the  pavement. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  as  he  applied  himself 
once  more  to  the  bottle  before  him.  "  Some 
fool  has  mistaken  his  whereabouts.  Curse  me, 
but  I'm  getting  as  nervous  as  an  old  woman." 

He  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  the  glass  to  his 
lips,  when  the  door  was  flung  wide  open.  The 
glass  fell  from  his  hands,  and  shivered  upon  the 
floor.     Moll  stood  before  him. 

She  stood  at  the  threshold  with  a  wicked 
gleam  in  her  eye,  and  a  smile  of  triumph  upon 
her  lips ;  then  advanced  into  the  room,  closed 
the  door  quietly,  locked  it,  seated  herself 
composedly  in  the  nearest  chair,  and  filled 
herself  a  glass  of  spirits.  Philip  glared  upon 
her  with  an  expression  of  mingled  anger,  fear 
and  wonderment. 

"  Are  you  a  devil  ?  Where  in  thunder  did 
you  spring  from  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  You'll  make  me  a  devil,  with  your  tricks, 
Philip  Searle,"  she  said,  sipping  the  liquor,  and 
looking  at  him  wickedly  over  the  rim  of  the 
tumbler. 

"  Ha !   ha  !    ha !"    she  laughed  aloud,  as  he 


1^0  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

muttered  a  curse  between  his  clenclied  teetli, 
"  I'm  not  the  country  girl,  Philip  dear,  that  I 
was  when  you  whispered  your  sweet  nonsense 
in  my  ear.  I  know  your  game,  my  bully  boy, 
and  I'll  play  you  card  for  card." 

"  Bradshaw  !"  shouted  Philip,  going  to  the 
door  and  striving  to  open  it. 

"  It's  no  use,"  she  said.  "  I've  got  the  key  in 
my  pocket.  Sit  down.  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
Don't  be  a  fool." 

"  Where's  Bradshaw,  Moll  ?" 

"  At  the  depot  by  this  time,  I  fancy,  for  the 
carriage  went  off  at  a  deuce  of  a  rate." 

She  laughed  again,  while  he  paced  the  room 
with  angry  strides. 

"  'Twas  he,  then,  that  betrayed  me.  The  vil- 
lain !  I'll  have  his  life  for  that,  as  I'm  a  sin- 
ner." 

"  You're  a  great  sinner,  Philip  Searle.  Sit 
down,  now,  and  be  quiet.     Where's  the  girl  ?" 

"What  girl?" 

"  Miranda  Ayleff.  The  girl  you've  ruined  ; 
the  girl  you've  put  in  my-place,  and  that  I've 
come  to  drive  out  of  it.     Where  is  she  ?" 

"  Don't  speak  so  loud,  Moll.    Be  quiet,  can't 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  161 

you  ?  See  here,  Moll,"  he  continued,  drawing  a 
chair  to  her  side,  and  speaking  in  his  old  win- 
ning way — "  see  here,  Moll :  why  can't  you  just 
let  this  matter  stand  as  it  is,  and  take  your  share 
of  the  plunder  ?  You  know  I  don't  care  about 
the  girl ;  so  what  difference  does  it  make  to  you, 
if  we  allow  her  to  think  that  she's  my  lawful 
wife  ?  Come,  give  us  a  kiss,  Moll,  and  let's  hear 
no  more  about  it." 

"  Honey  won't  catch  such  an  old  fly  as  I  am, 
Philip,"  replied  the  woman,  but  with  a  gentler 
tone.  "  "Where  is  the  girl  ?"  she  asked  suddenly, 
starting  from  the  chair.  "  I  want  to  see  her.  Is 
she  in  there  ?" 

"  Ko,"  said  Philip,  quickly,  and  rising  to  bar 
her  passage  to  the  door  of  Miranda's  chamber. 
"  She  is  not  there,  Moll ;  you  can't  see  her.  Are 
you  crazy  ?  You'd  frighten  the  poor  girl  out  of 
her  senses." 

"  She's  in  tnere.  I'm  going  in  to  speak  with  her. 
Yes  I  shall,  Philip,  and  you  needn't  stop  me." 

"  Keep  back.     Keep  quiet,  can't  you  ?" 

"  No.  Don't  hold  me,  Philip  Searle.  Keep 
your  hands  off  me,  if  you  know  what's  good  for 
you." 


162  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

She  brushed  past  him,  and  laid  her  hand  upon 
the  door-knob;  but  he  seized  her  violently  by 
the  arm  and  pulled  her  back.  The  action  hurt 
her  wrist,  and  she  was  boiling  with  rage  in  a 
second.  With  her  clenched  fist,  she  struck  him 
straight  in  the  face  repeatedly,  while  with  every 
blow,  she  screamed  out  an  imprecation. 

"  Keep  quiet,  you  hag !  Keep  quiet,  con- 
found you!"  said  the  infuriated  man.  "Won't 
you?  Take  that!"  and  he  planted  his  fist  upon 
her  mouth. 

The  woman,  through  her  tears  and  sobs, 
howled  at  him  curse  upon  curse.  With  one 
hand  upon  her  throat,  he  essayed  to  choke  her 
utterance,  and  thus  they  scuffled  about  the 
room. 

"  I'll  cut  you,  Philip ;  I  will,  by " 

Her  hand,  in  fact,  was  fumbling  about  her 
pocket,  and  she  drew  forth  a  small  knife  and 
thrust  it  into  his  shoulder.  They  were  near  the 
table,  over  which  Philip  had  thrust  her  down. 
He  was  wild  with  rage  and  the  brandy  he  had 
drank.  His  right  hand  instinctively  grasped  the 
heavy  bottle  that  by  chance  it  came  in  contact 
with.    The  next  instant,  it  descended  full  upon 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  163 

her  forehead,  and  with  a  moan  of  fear  and  pain, 
she  fell  like  lead  upon  the  floor,  and  lay  bleeding 
and  motionless. 

Philip,  still  grasping  the  shattered  bottle, 
gazed  aghast  npon  the  lifeless  form.  Then  a  cry 
of  terror  burst  upon  his  ear.  He  turned,  and 
beheld  Miranda,  with  dishevelled  hair,  pale  as 
her  night-clothes,  standing  at  the  threshold  of 
the  open  door.  "With  a  convulsive  shudder,  she 
staggered  into  the  room,  and  fainted  at  his  feet, 
her  white  arm  stained  with  the  blood  that  was 
sinking  in  little  pools  into  the  carpet. 

He  stood  there  gazing  from  one  to  the  other, 
but  without  seeking  to  succor  either.  The  fumes 
of  brandy,  and  the  sudden  revulsion  from  active 
wrath  to  apathy,  seemed  to  stupefy  his  brain. 
At  last  he  stooped  beside  the  outstretched  form 
of  Molly,  and,  with  averted  face,  felt  in  her 
pocket  and  drew  out  the  key.  Stealthily,  as  if 
he  feared  that  they  could  hear  him,  he  moved 
toward  the  door,  opened  it,  and  passing  through, 
closed  it  gently,  as  one  does  who  would  not 
waken  a  sleeping  child  or  invalid.  Rapidly,  but 
with  soft  steps,  he  descended  the  stairs,  and  went 
out  into  the  darkness  and  the  storm. 


164  FORT   LAFAYETTE;   OB, 


CHAPTEE  XYI. 

When  Miranda  awakened  from  her  swoon, 
the  lamp  was  burning  dimly,  and  the  first  light 
of  dawn  came  faintly  through  the  blinds.  All 
was  still  around  her,  and  for  some  moments  she 
could  not  recall  the  terrible  scene  which  had 
passed  before  her  eyes.  Presently  her  fingers 
came  in  contact  with  the  clots  of  gore  that  were 
thickening  on  her  garment,  and  she  arose 
quickly,  and,  with  a  shudder,  tottered  against 
the  wall.  Her  eyes  fell  upon  Moll's  white  face, 
the  brow  mangled  and  bruised,  and  the  dis- 
hevelled hair  soaking  in  the  crimson  tide  that 
kept  faintly  oozing  from  the  cut.  She  was 
alone  in  the  house  with  that  terrible  object ;  for 
Philip,  careless  of  her  convenience,  had  only 
procured  the  services  of  a  girl  from  a  neighbor- 
ing farm-house,  who  attended  to  the  household 
duties  during  the  day,  and  went  home  in  the 
evening.  But  her  womanly  compassion  was 
stronger  than  her  sense  of  horror,  and  kneeling 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  165 

by  the  side  of  the  prostrate  woman,  witli  inex- 
pressible relief  she  perceived,  by  the  slight  pul- 
sation of  the  heart,  that  life  was  there.  Enter- 
ing her  chamber,  she  hastily  put  on  a  morning 
wrapper,  and  returing  with  towel  and  water, 
raised  Moll's  head  upon  her  lap,  and  washed  the 
thick  blood  from  her  face.  The  cooling  mois- 
ture revived  the  wounded  woman  ;  her  bosom 
swelled  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  she  opened  her 
eyes  and  looked  languidly  around. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now,  madam  ?"  asked 
Miranda,  gently. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  said  Moll,  in  reply,  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

''  Miranda — Miranda  Searle,  the  wife  of 
Philip,"  she  added,  trembling  at  the  remem- 
brance of  the  woman's  treatment  at  her  hus- 
band's hands. 

Molly  raised  herself  with  an  effort,  and  sat 
upon  the  floor,  looking  at  Miranda,  while  she 
laughed  with  a  loud  and  hollow  sound. 

"  Philip's  wife,  eh  ?  And  you  love  him,  don't 
you  ?     Well,  dreams  can't  last  forever.*' 

"  Don't  you  feel  strong  enough  to  get  up  and 
lie  upon  the  bed?"  asked  Miranda,  soothingly, 


166  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

for  she  was  uncomfortable  under  the  strange 
glare  that  the  woman  fixed  upon  her. 

"I'm  well  enough/'  said  Moll.  "Where's 
Philip?" 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  know.  I  am  very  sorry, 
ma'am,  that — that " 

"  Never  mind.     Give  me  a  glass  of  water." 

Miranda  hastened  to  comply,  and  Moll  swal- 
lowed the  water,  and  remained  silent  for  a 
ment. 

"  Shan't  I  go  for  assistance  ?"  asked  Miranda, 
who  was  anxious  to  put  an  end  to  this  painful 
interview,  and  was  also  distressed  about  her  hus- 
band's absence.  "There's  no  one  except  our- 
selves in  the  house,  but  I  can  go  to  the  farmer's 
house  near  by." 

"  E"ot  for  the  world,"  interrupted  Moll,  taking 
her  by  the  arm.  "  I'm  well  enough.  Here,  let 
me  lean  on  you.  That's  it.  I'll  sit  on  the 
rocking-chair.  Thank  you.  Just  bind  my 
head  up,  will  you?  Is  it  an  ugly  cut?"  she 
asked,  as  Miranda,  having  procured  some  linen, 
carefully  bandaged  the  wounded  part. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  It's  very  bad.  Does  it  pain  you 
much,  ma'am  ?" 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  1^7 

"  Never  mind.  There,  that  will  do.  Now  sit 
down  there.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me.  I  ain't 
a-going  to  hurt  you.  It's  only  the  cut  that 
makes  me  look  so  ugly." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  am  not  at  all  afraid,  ma'am," 
said  Miranda,  shuddering  in  spite  of  herself. 

"You  are  a  sweet-looking  girl,"  said  Moll, 
fixing  her  haggard,  but  yet  beautiful  eyes  upon 
the  fragile  form  beside  her.  "  It's  a  pity  you 
must  be  unhappy.  Has  that  feUow  been  unkind 
to  you  ?" 

"What  fellow?"  madam. 

"  Philip." 

"  He  is  my  husband,  madam,"  replied  Mi- 
randa, mildly,  but  with  the  slightest  accent  of 
displeasure. 

"He  is,  eh?  Hum!  You  love  him  dearly, 
don't  you?" 

Miranda  blushed,  and  asked  : 

"  Do  you  know  my  husband  ?" 

"  Know  him !  If  you  knew  him  as  well,  it 
would  be  better  for  you.  You'll  know  him  well 
enough  before  long.  You  come  from  Yirginia, 
don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 


168  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  You  must  go  back  there." 

"K  Philip  wishes  it." 

"  I  tell  you,  you  must  go  at  once — to-day.  I 
will  give  you  money,  if  you  have  none.  And 
you  must  never  speak  of  what  has  happened  in 
this  house.     Do  you  understand  me  ?" 

"But  Philip" 

"  Forget  Philip.  You  must  never  see  him  any 
more.  Why  should  you  want  to  ?  Don't  you 
know  that  he's  a  brute,  and  will  beat  you  as  he 
beat  me,  if  you  stay  with  him.  Why  should 
you  care  about  him  ?" 

"  He  is  my  husband,  and  you  should  not  speak 
about  him  so  to  me,"  said  Miranda,  struggling 
with  her  tears,  and  scarce  knowing  in  what  vein 
to  converse  with  the  rude  woman,  whose  strange 
language  bewildered  and  frightened  her. 

"Bah!"  said  Moll,  roughly.  "You're  a  sim- 
pleton. There,  don't  cry,  though  heaven  knows 
you've  cause  enough,  poor  thing !  Philij)  Searle's 
a  villain.  I  could  send  him  to  the  State  prison  if 
I  chose." 

"  Oh,  no !  don't  say  that ;  indeed,  don't." 

"  I  tell  you  I  could ;  but  I  will  not,  if  you 
mind  me,  and  do  what  I  tell  you.     I'm  a  bad 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  1(30 

creature,  but  I  won't  harm  you,  if  I  can  help 
it.  You  helped  me  when  I  was  lying  there,  after 
that  A'illain  hurt  me,  and  I  can't  help  liking  you. 
And  yet  you've  hurt  me,  too." 

"I!" 

"  Yes.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story  'i  Poor  girl ! 
you're  wretched  enough  now,  but  you'd  better 
know  the  truth  at  once.  Listen  to  me  :  I  was  an 
innocent  girl,  like  you,  once.  'Not  so  beautiful, 
perhaps,  and  not  so  good ;  for  I  was  always 
proud  and  willful,  and  loved  to  have  my  own 
way.  I  was  a  country  girl,  and  had  money  left 
to  me  by  my  dead  parents.  A  young  man  made 
my  acquaintance.  He  was  gay  and  handsome, 
and  made  me  believe  that  he  loved  me.  Well,  I 
married  him — do  you  hear  ?  I  married  him — at 
the  church,  with  witnesses,  and  a  minister  to 
make  me  his  true  and  lawful  wife.  Curse  him  ! 
I  wish  he  had  dropped  down  dead  at  the  altar. 
There,  you  needn't  shudder ;  it  would  have  been 
well  for  you  if  he  had.  I  married  him,  and  then 
commenced  my  days  of  sorrow  and — of  guilt. 
He  squandered  my  money  at  the  gambling-table, 
and  I  was  sometimes  in  rags  and  without  food. 
He  was  drunk  half  the  time,  and  abused  me; 
8 


170  ^<^^T    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

but  I  was  even  with  him  there,  and  gave  him  as 
good  as  he  gave  me.  He  taught  nie  to  drink, 
and  such  a  time  as  we  sometimes  made  together 
would  have  made  Satan  blush.  I  thought  I 
was  low  enough;  but  he  drove  me  lower  yet. 
He  put  temptation  in  my  way — he  did,  curse  his 
black  heart !  though  he  denied  it.  I  fell  as  low 
as  woman  can  fall,  and  then  I  suppose  you  think 
he  left  me  ?  "Well,  he  did,  for  a  time ;  he  went 
off  somewhere,  and  perhaps  it  was  then  he  was 
trying  to  ruin  some  other  girl,  as  foolish  as  I  had 
been.  But  he  came  back,  and  got  money  from 
me — the  wages  of  my  sin.  And  all  the  while, 
he  was  as  handsome,  and  could  talk  as  softly  as 
if  he  was  a  saint.  And  with  that  smooth  tongue 
and  handsome  face  he  won  another  bride,  and 
married  her — married  her,  I  tell  you  ;  and  that's 
why  I  can  send  him  to  the  State  prison." 

"  Send  him !  Who  ?  My  God !  what  do  you 
mean?"  cried  Miranda,  rising  slowly  from  her 
chair,  with  clasped  hands  and  ashen  cheeks. 

"Philip  Searle,  my  husband !"  shouted  Moll, 
rising  also,  and  standing  with  gleaming  eyes 
before  the  trembling  girl. 

Miranda  sank  slowly  back  into  her  seat,  tear- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  171 

less,  but  shuddering  as  with  an  ague  fit.  Only 
from  her  lips,  with  a  moaning  sound,  a  murmur 
came: 

"  ISTo,  no,  no  !  oh,  no !" 

"  May  God  strike  me  dead  this  instant,  if  it  is 
not  true !"  said  Moll,  sadly ;  for  she  felt  for  the 
poor  girl's,  distress. 

Miranda  rose,  her  hands  pressed  tightly  against 
her  heart,  and  moved  toward  the  door  with  tot- 
tering and  uncertain  steps,  like  one  who  suffo- 
cates and  seeks  fresh  air.  Then  her  white  lips 
were  stained  with  purple ;  a  red  stream  gushed 
from  her  mouth  and  dyed  the  vestment  on  her 
bosom ;  and  ere  Moll  could  reach  her,  she  had 
sunk,  with  an  agonizing  sob,  upon  the  floor. 


172  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEK  XYH. 

The  night  after  the  unhappy  circnmstance  we 
have  related,  in  the  bar-room  of  a  Broadway 
hotel,  in  'New  York  city,  a  colonel  of  volun- 
teers, moustached  and  uniformed,  and  evi- 
dently in  a  very  unmilitary  condition  of  un- 
steadiness, was  entertaining  a  group  of  convivial 
acquaintances,  with  bacchanalian  exercises  and 
martian  gossip. 

He  had  already,  with  a  month's  experience  at 
the  seat  of  war,  culled  the  glories  of  unfought 
fields,  and  was  therefore  an  object  of  admiration 
to  his  civilian  friends,  and  of  envy  to  several 
unfledged  heroes,  whose  maiden  swords  had 
as  yet  only  jingled  on  the  pavement  of  Broad- 
way, or  flashed  in  the  gaslight  of  saloons.  They 
were  yet  none  the  less  conscious  of  their  own 
importance,  these  embryo  I^apoleons,  but  wore 
their  shoulder  straps  with  a  killing  air,  and  had 
often,  on  a  sunny  afternoon,  stood  the  fire  pf 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  173 

bright  eyes  from  innumerable  promenading  bat-* 
teries,  with  gallantry,  to  say  the  least. 

And  now  they  stood,  like  Caesars,  amid  clouds 
of  smoke,  and  wielded  their  formidable  goblets 
with  the  ease  of  veterans,  though  not  always 
with  a  soldierly  precision.  And  why  should 
they  not  ?  Their  tailors  had  made  them  heroes, 
every  one ;  and  they  had  never  yet  once  led  the 
van  in  a  retreat. 

"  And  how's  Tim  ?"  asked  one  of  the  black- 
coated  hangers-on  ujDon  prospective  glory. 

"  Tim's  in  hot  water,"  answered  the  colonel, 
elevating  his  chin  and  elbow  with  a  gesture 
more  suggestive  of  Bacchus  than  of  Mars. 

"  Hot  brandy  and  water  would  be  more  like 
him,"  said  the  acknowledged  wit  of  the  party, 
looking  gravely  at  the  sugar  in  his  empty  glass, 
as  if  indiiFerent  to  the  bursts  of  laughter  which 
rewarded  his  appropriate  sally 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  it,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  Fill  up,  boys.  Thompson,  take  a  fresh 
segar." 

Thompson  took  it,  and  the  boys  filled  up, 
while  the  colonel  flung  down  a  specimen  of 
Uncle  Sam's  eagle  w^ith  an  emphasis  that  de- 


174:  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

monstrated  what  he  would  do  for  the  bird  when 
opportunity  offered. 

"  You  see,  we  had  a  party  of  Congressmen  in 
camp,  and  were  cracking  some  champagne  bot- 
tles in  the  adjutant's  tent.  We  considered  it  a 
military  necessity  to  floor  the  legislators,  you 
know  ;  but  one  old  senator  was  tough  as  a  siege- 
gun,  and  wouldn't  even  wink  at  his  third  bottle. 
So  the  corks  flew  about  like  minie  balls,  but 
never  a  man  but  was  too  good  a  soldier  to  cry 
'hold,  enough.'  As  for  that  old  demijohn  of  a 
senator,  it  seemed  he  couldn't  hold  enough,  and 
wouldn't  if  he  could ;  so  we  directed  the  main 
battle  against  him,  and  opened  a  masked  bat- 
tery upon  him,  by  uncovering  a  bottle  of  Otard  ; 
but  he  never  flinched.  It  was  a  game  of  Brag 
all  over,  and  every  one  kept  ordering  '  a  little 
more  grape.'  Presently,  up  slaps  a  mounted 
aid,  galloping  like  mad,  and  in  tumbles  the 
sleepy  orderly  for  the  officer  of  the  day. 

"  '  That's  you,  Tim,'  says  I.  But  Tim  was 
just  then  singing  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  in 
a  convivial  whisper  to  the  tune  of  the  Eed, 
White,  and  Blue,  and  wouldn't  be  disturbed  on 
no  account. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  I75 

"  '  Tumble  out,  Tim,'  says  I,  '  or  I'll  have  you 
court-martialled  and  shot.' 

"  '  In  the  neck,'  says  Tim.  But  he  did  manage 
to  tumble  out,  and  finished  the  last  stanzas  with 
a  flourisli,  for  the  edification  of  the  mounted  aid- 
de-camp. 

"  '  Where's  the  officer  of  the  day  ?'  asked  the 
aid,  looking  suspiciously  at  Tim's  shaky  knees. 

"  '  He  stands  before  you,'  replied  Tim,  steady- 
ing himself  a  little  by  afi'ectionately  hanging  on 
to  the  horse's  tail. 

"  '  You  sir  ?  you're  unfit  for  duty,  and  I'll 
report  you,  sir,  at  headquarters,'  said  the  aid, 
who  was  a  West  Pointer,  you  know,  stiff  as  a 
poker  in  regimentals. 

"  '  Sir  ! — hie,'  replied  Tim,  with  an  attempt 
at  oflended  dignity,  the  effect  of  which  was 
rather  spoiled  by  the  accompanying  hiccough. 

"  '  Where's  the  colonel !'  asked  the  aid. 

"  '  Drunk,'  says  that  rascal,  Tim,  confidentially, 
with  a  knowing  w^ink. 

"  '  Where's  the  adjutant  V 

"'Drunk.' 

"  '  Good  God,  sir,  are  you  all  drunk  V 

"  '  'Cept  the  surgeon — lie's  got  the  measles.' 


176  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  ^  Orderly,  give  this  dispatch  to  the  first  sober 
officer  you  can  find.' 

"  '  It's  no  use,  captain,'  says  Tim,  '  the  regi- 
ment's drunk — 'cept  me,  hie !'  and  Tim  lost  his 
balance,  and  tumbled  over  the  orderly,  for  you 
see  the  captain  put  sj)urs  to  his  horse  rather  sud- 
denly, and  whisked  the  friendly  tail  out  of  his 
hands. 

''  So  we  were  all  up  before  the  general  the 
next  day,  but  swore  ourselves  clear,  all  except 
Tim,  who  had  the  circumstantial  evidence  rather 
too  strong  against  him." 

"  And  such  are  the  men  in  whom  the  country 
has  placed  its  trust?"  muttered  a  grey-headed 
old  gentleman,  who,  while  apparently  absorbed 
in  his  newspaper,  had  been  listening  to  the 
colonel's  narrative. 

A  young  man  who  had  lounged  into  the 
room  approached  the  party  and  caught  the 
colonel's  eye : 

"  Ah  !  Searle,  how  are  you  ?  Come  up  and 
take  a  drink." 

A  further  requisition  was  made  upon  the  bar- 
tender, and  the  company  indulged  anew.  Searle, 
although  a  little  pale  and  nervous,  was  all  life 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  177 

and  gaiety.  His  coming  was  a  fresh  brand  on 
tlie  convivial  flame,  and  the  party,  too  much 
exhilarated  to  be  content  with  pushing  one  vice  to 
excess,  sallied  forth  in  search  of  whatever  other 
the  great  city  might  aiFord.  They  had  not  to 
look  far.  Folly  is  at  no  fault  in  the  metropolis 
for  food  of  whatever  quality  to  feed  upon  ; 
and  they  were  soon  accommodated  with  excite- 
ment to  their  hearts  content  at  a  fashionable 
gambling  saloon  on  Broadway.  The  colonel 
played  with  recklessness  and  daring  that,  if  he 
carries  it  to  the  battle-field,  will  wreathe  his  brow 
with  laurels ;  but  like  many  a  rash  soldier 
before  him,  he  did  not  win.  On  the  contrary, 
his  eagles  took  flight  with  a  rapidity  suggestive 
of  the  old  adage  that  '^  gold  hath  wings,"  and 
when,  long  after  midnight,  he  stood  upon  the 
deserted  street  alone  with  Philip  Searle  and  his 
reflections,  he  was  a  sadder  and  a  soberer  man. 

"  Searle,  I'm  a  ruined  man." 

"  You'll  fight  all  the  better  for  it,"  replied 
Philip,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  segar. 
"  Come,  you'll  never  mend  the  matter  by  taking 
cold  here  in  the  night  air;  where  do  you  put 
up  ?  ril  see  you  home." 
8* 


178  I'ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  D — n  you,  yon  take  it  easy,"  said  the  colo- 
nel, bitterly.  Philip  could  afford  to  take  it 
easy,  for  he  had  most  of  the  colonel's  money 
in  his  pocket.  In  fact,  the  unhappy  votary  of 
Mars  was  more  thoroughly  ruined  than  his  com- 
panion was  aware  of,  for  when  fortune  was  hit- 
ting him  hardest,  he  had  not  hesitated  to  bring 
into  action  a  reserve  of  government  funds  which 
had  been  intrusted  to  his  charge  for  specific 
purposes. 

"  Searle,"  said  the  colonel,  after  they  had 
walked  along  silently  for  a  few  minutes,  *'  1  was 
telling  you  this  evening  about  that  vacant 
captaincy." 

"  Yes,  you  were  telling  me  I  shouldn't  have 
it,"  replied  Philip,  with  an  accent  of  injured 
friendship. 

^'  Well,  I  fancied  it  out  of  my  power  to  do 
anything  about  it.     But " 

"  Well,  but  ?" 

"  I  think  I  might  get  it  for  you,  for — 
for" 

"  A  consideration  ?"  suggested  Philip,  inter- 
rogatively, 

Well,  to  be  plain  with  you,  let  me  have  five 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  17^ 

Inmdred,  and  you've  won  all  of  that  to-night, 
and  I'll  get  you  the  captaincy." 

"  We'll  talk  about  it  to-morrow  morning," 
replied  Philip. 

And  in  the  morning  the  bargain  was  con- 
cluded ;  Philip,  with  the  promise  that  all  should 
be  satisfactorily  arranged,  started  the  same  day 
for  Washington,  to  await  the  commission  so 
honorably  disposed  of  by  the  gallant  colonel. 


180  FORT    LATAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XYin. 

"We  will  let  thirty  days  pass  on,  and  bear  tlie 
reader  Sonth  of  the  Potomac,  beyond  tlie  Fede- 
ral lines  and  witliin  rifle-shot  of  an  advanced 
picket  of  the  Confederate  army,  under  General 
Beauregard.  It  was  a  dismal  night — the  16tli 
of  July.  The  rain  fell  heavily  and  the  wind 
moaned  and  shrieked  through  the  lone  forests 
like  unhappy  spirits  wailing  in  the  darkness. 
A  solitary  horseman  was  cautiously  wending  his 
way  through  the  storm  upon  the  Centreville 
road  and  toward  the  Confederate  line.  He  bore 
a  white  handkerchief,  and  from  time  to  time,  as 
his  ear  seemed  to  catch  a  sound  other  than  the 
voice  of  the  tempest,  he  drew  his  rein  and  raised 
the  fluttering  symbol  at  his  drawn  sword's 
point.  Through  the  dark  masses  of  foliage  that 
skirted  the  roadside,  presently  could  be  seen 
the  fitful  glimmer  of  a  watchfire,  and  the  tra- 
veller redoubled  his  precautions,  but  yet  rode 
steadily  on. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  181 

"  Halt !"  cried  a  stern,  loud  voice  from  a 
clump  of  buslics  that  looked  black  and  threaten- 
ing in  the  darkness.  The  horseman  checked 
his  horse  and  sat  immovable  in  the  centre  of 
the  road. 

"  Who  goes  there  T'  followed  quick,  in  the 
same  deep,  peremptory  tone. 

"  An  officer  of  the  United  States,  with  a  flag 
of  truce,"  was  answered  in  a  clear,  firm  voice. 

"  Stand  where  you  are."  There  was  a  pause, 
and  presently  four  dark  forms  emerged  from  the 
roadside,  and  stood  at  the  horse's  head. 

"  You've  chosen  a  strange  time  for  your 
errand,  and  a  dangerous  one,"  said  one  of  the 
party,  with  a  mild  and  gentlemanly  accent. 

'^  Who  speaks  ?" 

"  The  officer  in  command  of  this  picket." 

"  Is  not  that  Beverly  Weems  ?" 

"  The  same.  And  surely  I  know  that 
voice." 

"  Of  course  you  do,  if  you  know  Harold 
Hare." 

And  the  stranger,  dismounting,  stretched  out 
his  hand,  which  was  eagerly  and  warmly  clasped, 
and  followed  by  a  silent  and  prolonged  embrace. 


182  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

^'  How  rasli  you  have  been,  Harold,"  said 
Beverly,  at  last.  "It  is  a  mercy  that  I  was 
by,  else  might  a  bullet  have  been  your  welcome. 
"Why  did  you  not  wait  till  morning?" 

"  Because  my  mission  admits  of  no  delay.  It 
is  most  opportune  that  I  have  met  you.  You 
have  spoken  to  me  at  times,  and  Oriana  often, 
of  your  young  cousin,  Miranda." 

"  Yes,  Harold,  what  of  her  ?" 

"  Beverly,  she  is  within  a  riiie-shot  of  where 
we  stand,  very  sick — dying  I  believe." 

"  Good  God,  Harold !  what  strange  tale  is 
this?" 

"I  am  in  command  of  an  advanced  picket, 
stationed  at  the  old  farm-house  yonder.  Toward 
dusk  this  evening,  a  carriage  drove  up,  and 
when  challenged,  a  pass  was  presented,  with 
orders  to  assist  the  bearer,  Miranda  Ayleff, 
beyond  the  lines.  I  remembered  the  name,  and 
stepping  to  the  carriage  door,  beheld  two 
females,  one  of  whom  was  bending  over  her 
companion,  and  holding  a  vial,  a  restorative,  I 
suppose,  to  her  lips. 

"  '  She  has  fainted,  sir,'  said  the  woman,  '  and 
is  very  ill.     I'm   afraid  she  won't  last  till  she 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  183 

gets  to  Eichmond.  Can't  you  help  her ;  isn't 
there  a  surgeon  among  you  at  the  farm-house 
there  V 

"  We  had  no  surgeon,  but  I  had  her  taken  into 
the  house,  and  made  as  comfortable  as  possible. 
When  she  recovered  from  her  swoon,  she  asked 
for  you,  and  repeatedly  for  Oriana,  and  would 
not  be  comforted  until  I  promised  her  that  she 
should  be  taken  immediately  on  to  Eichmond. 
'She  could  not  die  there,  among  strangers,' 
she  said  ;  '  she  must  see  one  friend  before  she 
died.  She  must  go  home  at  once  and  be  for- 
given.' And  thus  she  went,  half  in  delirium, 
until  I  feared  that  her  life  would  pass  away,  from 
sheer  exhaustion.  I  determined  to  ride  over  to 
your  picket  at  once,  not  dreaming,  however,  that 
you  were  in  command.  At  dawn  to-morrow  we 
shall  probably  be  relieved,  and  it  might  be 
beyond  my  power  then  to  meet  her  wishes." 

"  I  need  not  say  how  much  I  thank  you, 
Harold.  But  you  were  ever  kind  and  generous. 
Poor  girl !  Let  us  ride  over  at  once,  Harold. 
Who  is  her  companion  ?" 

"  A  woman  some  years  her  senior,  but  yet 
young,  though  prematurely  faded.     I  could  get 


184  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

little  from  her.  Not  even  her  name.  She  is 
gloomy  and  reserveclj  even  morose  at  times  ;  but 
she  seems  to  be  kind  and  attentive  to  Miranda." 

Beverly  left  some  hasty  instructions  with  his 
sergeant,  and  rode  over  with  Harold  to  the  farm- 
house. They  found  Miranda  reclining  upon  a 
couch  of  blankets,  over  which  Harold  had  spread 
his  military  cloak,  for  the  dwelling  had  been 
stripped  of  its  furniture,  and  was,  in  fact,  little 
more  than  a  deserted  ruin.  The  suffering  girl 
was  pale  and  attenuated,  and  her  sunken  eyes 
were  wild  and  bright  with  the  fire  of  delirium. 
Yet  she  seemed  to  recognize  Beverly,  and 
stretched  out  her  thin  arms  when  he  approached, 
exclaiming  in  tremulous  accents  : 

"  Take  me  home,  Beverly,  oh,  take  me 
home !" 

Moll  was  seated  by  her  side,  upon  a  soldier's 
knapsack  ;  her  chin  resting  upon  her  hands,  and 
her  black  eyes  fixed  sullenly  upon  the  floor. 
She  would  give  but  short  and  evasive  answers 
to  Beverly's  questions,  and  stubbornly  refused 
to  communicate  the  particulars  of  Miranda's 
history. 

"  She  broke  a  blood-vessel   a  month  ago  in 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  l85 

Boston.  But  she  got  better,  and  was  always 
wanting  to  go  to  lier  friends  in  Riclimond.  And 
so  I  brought  lier  on.  And  now  you  must  take 
care  of  her,  for  I'm  going  back  to  camp." 

Tliis  was  about  all  the  information  she  would 
give,  and  the  two  young  men  ceased  to  impor- 
tune her,  and  directed  their  attentions  to  the 
patient. 

The  carriage  was  prepared  and  the  cushions  so 
arranged,  with  the  help  of  blankets,  as  to  form  a 
kind  of  couch  within  the  vehicle.  Upon  this 
Miranda  was  tenderly  lifted,  and  when  she  was 
told  tliat  she  should  be  taken  home  without 
delay,  and  would  soon  see  Oriana,  she  smiled 
like  a  pleased  child,  and  ceased  complaining. 

Beverly  stood  beside  his  horse,  with  his  hand 
clasped  in  Harold's.  The  rain  poured  down 
upon  them,  and  the  single  watchfire,  a  little 
apart  from  which  the  silent  sentinel  stood  lean- 
ing on  his  rifle,  threw  its  rude  glare  upon  their 
saddened  faces. 

"  Good  bye,  old  friend,"  said  Beverly.  ''  We 
have  met  strangely  to-night,  and  sadly.  Pray 
heaven  we  may  not  meet  more  sadly  on  the 
battle-iield." 


186  FORT   LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  Tell  Oriana,"  replied  Harold,  "  that  I  am 
with  her  in  mj  prayers."  He  had  not  spoken 
of  her  before,  although  Beverly  had  mentioned 
that  she  was  at  the  old  manor  house,  and  well. 
"  I  have  not  heard  from  Arthur,"  he  continued, 
"  for  I  have  been  much  about  upon  scouting 
parties  since  I  came,  but  I  doubt  not  he  is  well, 
and  I  may  find  a  letter  when  I  return  to  camp. 
Good  bye ;  and  may  our  next  meeting  see  peace 
upon  the  land." 

They  parted,  and  the  carriage,  wdth  Beverly 
riding  at  its  side,  moved  slowly  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  was  gone. 

Harold  returned  into  the  farm-house,  and  found 
Moll  seated  where  he  had  left  her,  and  still 
gazing  fixedly  at  the  floor.  He  did  not  disturb 
her,  but  paced  the  floor  slowly,  lost  in  his  own 
melancholy  thoughts.  After  a  silence  of  some 
minutes,  the  woman  spoke,  without  looking  up. 

"  Have  they  gone  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  She  is  dying,  ain't  she  ?" 

"  I  fear  she  is  very  ill." 

"  I  tell  you,  she's  dying^and  it's  better  that 
she  is." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  187 

She  then  relapsed  into  her  former  mood,  but 
after  a  while,  as  Harold  paused  at  the  window 
and  looked  out,  she  spoke  again. 

"  Will  it  soon  be  day  ?" 

"  Within  an  hour,  I  think,"  replied  Harold. 
"  Do  you  go  back  at  daylight  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  have  no  horse  ?" 

"  You'll  lend  me  one,  won't  you  ?  If  you 
don't,  I  don't  care ;  I  can  walk." 

"  We  will  do  what  we  can  for  you.  What  is 
your  business  at  the  camp  ?" 

"IsTever  mind,"  she  answered  gruffly.  And 
then,  after  a  pause,  she  asked : 

"  Is  there  a  man  named  Searle  in  your  army 
— Philip  Searle?" 

"  Xay,  I  know  not.  There  may  be.  I  have 
never  heard  the  name.  Do  you  seek  such  a  per- 
son ?     Is  he  your  friend,  or  relative  ?" 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said  again,  and  then  was 
silent  as  before. 

With  the  approach  of  dawn,  the  sentry  chal- 
lenged an  advancing  troop,  which  proved  to  be 
the  relief  picket  guard.  Harold  saluted  the 
officer    in    command,    and    having    left   orders 


188  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

respectiyely  with  their  subordinates,  they 
entered  the  farm-house  together,  and  proceeded 
to  the  apartment  where  Moll  still  remained 
seated.  She  did  not  seem  to  notice  their 
entrance ;  but  when  the  new-comer's  voice,  in 
some  casual  remark,  reached  her  ear,  she  rose 
up  suddenly,  and  walking  straight  forward  to 
where  the  two  stood,  looking  out  at  the  window, 
she  placed  her  hand  heavily,  and  even  rudely, 
upon  his  shoulder.  He  turned  at  the  touch,  and 
beholding  her,  started  back,  with  not  only 
astonishment,  but  fear. 

"  You  needn't  look  so  white,  Philip  Searle," 
she  said  at  last,  in  a  low,  hoarse  tone.  "  It's 
not  a  ghost  you're  looking  at.  But  perhaps 
you're  only  angry  that  you  only  half  did  your 
business  while  you  were  at  it." 

"  Where  did  you  pick  up  this  woman  ?"  asked 
Searle  of  Harold,  drawing  him  aside. 

''  She  came  with  an  invalid  on  her  way  to 
Richmond,"  replied  Harold. 

"  What  invalid  ?" 

He  sx^oke  almost  in  a  whisper,  but  Moll  over- 
heard him,  and  answered  fiercely  : 

''  One  that  is  dying,  Philip ;  and  you  know 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  189 

well  enough  who  murdered  her.  'Twasn't  me 
you  struck  the  hardest  blow  that  night.  Do  you 
see  that  scar  ?  That's  nothing  ;  but  you  struck 
her  to  the  heart." 

"  What  does  she  mean  ?"  asked  Harold,  look- 
ing sternly  into  Philip's  disturbed  eye. 

"  Heaven  knows.  She's  mad,"  he  answered. 
"  Did  she  tell  you  nothing— no  absurd  story  ?" 

"  Nothing.  She  was  sullen  and  uncommuni- 
cative, and  half  the  time  took  no  notice  of  our 
questions." 

"ISTo  wonder,  poor  thing!"  said  Philip. 
"She's  mad.  However,  I  have  some  little 
power  with  her,  and  if  you  will  leave  us  alone 
awhile,  I  will  prevail  upon  her  to  go  quietly 
back  to  "Washington." 

Harold  went  up  to  the  woman,  who  was  lean- 
ing with  folded  arms  against  the  wall,  and 
spoke  kindly  to  her. 

"  Should  you  want  assistance,  I  will  help  you. 
We  shall  be  going  in  half  an  hour.  You  must 
be  ready  to  go  with  us,  you  know,  for  you 
can't  stay  here,  where  there  may  be  fighting 
presently." 

"  Tliank  you,"  she  replied.     "  Don't  mind  me. 


190  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

I  can  take  care  of  myself.  You  can  leave  ns 
alone  together.     I'm  not  afraid  of  liim." 

Harold  left  tlie  room,  and  busied  himself 
about  the  preparations  for  departure.  Left  alone 
with  the  woman  he  had  wronged,  Philip  for 
some  moments  paced  the  room  nervously  and 
with  clouded  brow.  Finally,  he  stopped 
abruptly  before  Moll,  who  had  been  following 
his  motions  with  her  wild,  unquiet  eyes. 

""Where  have  you  sprung  from  now,  and 
what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Do  you  see  that  scar  ?"  she  said  again,  but 
more  fiercely  than  before.  "  While  that  lasts, 
there's  no  love  'twixt  you  and  me,  and  it'll  last 
me  till  my  death." 

"  Then  why  do  you  trouble  me.  If  you 
don't  love  me,  why  do  you  hang  about  me 
wherever  I  go?  We'll  be  better  friends  away 
from  each  other  than  together.  Why  don't  you 
leave  me  alone  ?" 

"  Ha !  ha !  we  must  be  quits  for  that,  you 
know,"  she  answered,  rather  wildly,  and  point- 
ing to  her  forehead.  "  Do  you  think  I'm  a  poor 
whining  fool  like  her,  to  get  sick  and  die  when 
you  abuse  me  ?     I'll  haunt  you  till  I  die,,£hilip ; 


• 


LOYE    AND    SECESSION.  191 

and   after,   too,   if  I   can,   to  punish    you   for 
that." 

Philip  fancied  that  he  detected  the  gleam  of 
insanity  in  her  eye,  and  he  was  not  wrong,  for 
the  terrible  blow  he  had  inflicted  had  injured 
her  brain ;  and  her  mind,  weakened  by  dissipa- 
tion and  the  action  of  excitement  upon  her  vio- 
lent temperament,  was  tottering  upon  the  verge 
of  madness. 

"  When  I  was  watching  that  poor  sick  girl," 
she  continued,  "I  thought  I  could  have  loved 
her,  she  was  so  beautiful  and  gentle,  as  she  lay- 
there,  white  and  thin,  and  never  speaking  a  word 
against  you,  Philip,  but  thinking  of  her  friends 
far  away,  and  asking  to  be  taken  home — home,- 
where  her  mother  was  sleeping  under  the  sod — 
home,  to  be  loved  and  kissed  again  before  she 
died.  And  I  would  have  loved  her  if  I  hadn't 
hated  you  so  much  that  there  wasn't  room  for 
the  love  of  any  living  creature  in  my  bad  heart. 
1  used  to  sit  all  night  and  hear  her  talk — talk  in 
her  dreams  and  in  her  fever — as  if  there  were 
kind  people  listening  to  her,  people  that  were 
kind  to  her  long  ago.  And  the  room  seemed 
full  of  angels  sometimes,  so  that  I  was  afraid  to 


192  ^<^KT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

move  and  look  about ;  for  I  could  swear  I  heard 
tlie  framing  of  their  wings  and  the  rustle  of  their 
feet  upon  the  carpet.  Sometimes  I  saw  big 
round  tears  upon  her  wasted  cheeks,  and  I 
wouldn't  brush  them  awaj,  for  they  looked  like 
jewels  that  the  angels  had  dropped  there.  And 
then  I  tried  to  cry  myself,  but,  ha  !  ha  !  I  had  to 
laugh  instead,  although  my  heart  was  bursting. 
I  wished  I  could  have  cried ;  I'm  sure  it  would 
have  made  my  heart  so  light,  and  perhaps  it 
•  would  have  burst  that  ring  of  hot  iron  that  was 
pressing  so  hard  around  my  head.  It's  there  now, 
sinking  and  burning  right  against  my  temples. 
But  I  can't  cry,  I  haven't  since  I  was  a  little 
girl,  long  ago,  long  ago;  but  I  think  I  cried 
when  mother  died,  long  ago,  long  ago." 

She  was  speaking  in  a  kind  of  dreamy  mur- 
mur, while  Philip  paced  the  room ;  and  finally 
she  sank  down  upon  the  floor,  and  sat  there  with 
her  hands  pressed  against  her  brows,  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro. 

"Moll,"  said  Philip,  stooping  over  her,  and 
speaking  in  a  gentle  tone,  "I'm  sorry  I  struck 
you,  indeed  I  am ;  but  I  was  drunk,  and  when 
you  cut  me,  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  about. 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  193 

Kow  let's  be  friends,  there's  a  good  girl.  You 
must  go  back  to  Washington,  you  know,  and  to 
New  York,  and  stay  there  till  I  come  back. 
Won't  yon,  now,  Moll?" 

"Won't  I?  JS'o,  Philip  Searle,  I  won't.  I'll 
stay  by  you  till  you  kill  me ;  yes,  I  will.  You 
want  to  go  after  that  poor  girl  and  torment  her ; 
but  she's  dying  and  soon  you  won't  be  able  to 
hurt  her  any  more." 

"Was  it  she,  Moll,  was  it  Miranda  that  came 
here  with  you?  Was  she  going  to  Rich- 
mond ?" 

"  She  was  going  to  heaven,  Philip  Searle,  out 
of  the  reach  of  such  as  you  and  me.  Fm  good 
enough  for  you,  Philip,  bad  as  I  am ;  and  Pm 
your  wife,  besides." 

"  You  told  her  that  ?" 

"Told  her?  Ha!  ha!  Told  her?  do  you 
think  I'm  going  to  make  that  a  secret  ?  'No,  no. 
We're  a  bad  couple,  sure  enough ;  but  I'm  not 
going  to  deny  you,  for  all  that.  Look  you, 
young  man,"  she  continued,  addressing  Harold, 
who  at  that  moment  entered  the  room,  "  that  is 
Philip  Searle,  and  Philip  Searle  is  my  husband — 
my  husband,  curse  his  black  heart !  and  if  he 
0 


194:  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

dares  deny  it,  I'll  liave  him  in  the  State  prison, 

for  I  can  do  it." 

"She's    perfectly    insane,"   said  Philip;    but 

Harold  looked  thouglitful   and  perplexed,  and 

scanned  his  fellow-officer's  countenance  with  a 

searching  glance. 

''At  all   events,"   he    said,   "she    must    not 

remain  here.      Mj  good  woman,  we  are  ready 

now,  and  you  must  come  with  us.     We  have  a 

horse  for  you,  and  will  make  you  comfortable. 

Are  you  ready  ?" 

"  JS'o,"  she  replied,  sullenly,  "  I  won't  go.     I'll 

stay  with  my  husband." 

"ITay,"  remonstrated  Harold,  gently,  "you 
cannot  stay  here.  This  is  no  place  for  women. 
"When  we  arrive  at  headquarters,  you  shall  tell 
your  story  to  General  McDowell,  and  he  will  see 
that  you  are  taken  care  of,  and  have  justice  if 
you  have  been  wronged.  But  you  must  not 
keep  us  waiting.  We  are  soldiers,  you  know, 
and  must  do  our  duty." 

Still,  however,  she  insisted  upon  remaining 
where  she  was ;  but  when  two  soldiers,  at  a  gesture 
from  Harold,  approached  and  took  her  gently  by 
the  arms,  she  offered  no  resistance,  and  suffered 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  195 

herself  to  be  led  quietly  out.  Harold  coldly 
saluted  Searle,  and  left  him  in  charge  of  the 
post ;  while  himself  and  party,  accompanied  by 
Moll  and  the  coachman  who  had  driven  them 
from  Washington,  were  soon  briskly  marching 
toward  the  camp. 


196  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

Toward  dusk  of  tlie  same  day,  while  Philip 
and  his  lieutenant  were  seated  at  the  rude  pine 
table,  conversing  after  their  evening  meal,  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  entered  with  a  slip  of 
paper,  on  which  was  traced  a  line  in  pencil. 

"  Is  the  bearer  below  ?"  asked  Philip,  as  he 
cast  his  eyes  over  the  paper. 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  was  challenged  a  minute  ago, 
and  answered  with  the  countersign  and  that  slip 
for  jou,  sir." 

'^  It's  all  right,  sergeant ;  you  may  send  him 
up.  Mr.  Williams,"  he  continued,  to  his  com- 
rade, "  will  you  please  to  look  about  a  little  and 
see  that  all  is  in  order.  I  will  speak  a  few  words 
with  this  messenger." 

The  lieutenant  and  sergeant  left  the  room,  and 
presently  afterward  there  entered,  closing  the 
door  carefully  after  him,  no  less  a  personage 
than  Seth  Eawbon. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  I97 

"  You're  late,"  said  Pliilip,  motioning  liiin  to 
a  chair. 

"There's  an  old  proverb  to  answer  that," 
answered  Rawbon,  as  he  leisurely  adjusted  his 
lank  frame  upon  the  seat.  Having  established 
himself  to  his  satisfaction,  he  continued  : 

"  I  had  to  make  a  considerable  circuit  to 
avoid  the  returning  picket,  who  might  have 
bothered  me  with  questions.  I'm  in  good  time, 
though.  If  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  go, 
you'll  do  it  as  well  by  night,  and  safer  too." 

"  What  have  you  learned  ?" 

"  Enough  to  make  me  welcome  at  headquar- 
ters. You  were  right  about  the  battle.  There'll 
be  tough  work  soon.  They're  fixing  for  a  gene- 
ral advance.  If  you  expect  to  do  your  first 
fighting  under  the  stars  and  bars,  you  must 
swear  by  them  to-night." 

"  Have  you  been  in  Washington?" 

"  Every  nook  and  corner  of  it.  They  don't 
keep  their  eyes  skinned,  I  fancy,  up  there.  Your 
fancy  colonels  have  slippery  tongues  when  the 
champagne  corks  are  flying.  If  they  fight  as 
hard  as  they  drink,  they'll  give  us  trouble.  Well, 
what  do  you  calculate  to   do?"  lie  added,  after  a 


198  J'ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

pause,  during  whicli  Philip  was  moody  and  lost 
in  thought. 

Philip  rose  from  his  seat  and  paced  the  floor 
uneasily,  while  Kawbon  filled  a  glass  from  a 
flask  of  brandy  on  the  table.  It  was  now  quite 
dark  without,  and  neither  of  them  observed  the 
figure  of  a  woman  crouched  on  the  narrow 
veranda,  her  chin  resting  on  the  sill  of  the  open 
window.  At  last  Philip  resumed  his  seat,  and 
he,  too,  swallowed  a  deep  draught  from  the  flask 
of  brandy. 

"  Tell  me  what  I  can  count  upon  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  same  grade  you  have,  and  in  a  crack 
regiment.  It's  no  use  asking  for  money.  They've 
none  to  spare  for  such  as  you — now  don't  look 
savage — I  mean  they  won't  buy  men  that  hain't 
seen  service,  and  you  can't  expect  them  to.  I 
told  you  all  about  that  before,  and  it's  time  you 
had  your  mind  made  up." 

"  What  proofs  of  good  faith  can  you  give  me  ?" 

Eawbon  thrust  his  hand  into  his  bosom  and 
drew  out  a  roll  of  parchment. 

"  This  commission,  under  Gen.  Beauregard's 
hand,  to  be  approved  when  you  report  yourself 
at  headquarters." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  199 

Philip  took  the  clocTiment  and  read  it  atten- 
tively, while  Eawhon  occupied  himself  with 
filling  his  pipe  from  a  leathern  pouch.  Tlio 
female  figure  stepped  in  at  the  window,  and, 
gliding  noiselessly  into  the  room,  seated  her- 
self in  a  tliii-d  chair  by  the  table  before  either 
of  the  men  became  aware  of  her  presence.  Thev 
started  up  with  astonishment  and  consternation. 
She  did  not  seem  to  heed  them,  but  leaning 
upon  tlie  table,  she  stretched  her  hand  to  the 
brandy  flask  and  applied  it  to  her  lips. 

"  Who's  this  ?"  demanded  Eawbon,  with  his 
hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  large  bowie  knife. 

"  Curse  her !  my  evil  genius,"  answered 
Philip,  grating  his  teeth  with  anger.  It  was 
Moll. 

"  What's  this,  Philip !"  she  said,  clutching 
the  parchment  which  had  been  dropped  upon 
the  table. 

"  Leave  that,"  ejaculated  her  husband,  sav- 
fio-elv,  and  dartin2;  to  take  it  from  her 

But  she  eluded  his  grflsp,  and  ran  with  the 
document  into  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  I  know  what  it  is,"  she  said, 
waving  it  about  as  a  schoolboy  sometimes  exult- 


200  ^ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

inglj  exhibits  a  toy  that  he  has  mischievously 
snatched  from  a  comrade. 

"  It's  your  death-warrant,  Philip  Searle,  if 
somebody  sees  it  over  yonder.  I  heard  you.  I 
heard  you.  You're  going  over  to  fight  for  Jeff. 
Davis.  "Well,  I  don't  care,  but  I'll  go  with  you. 
Don't  come  near  me.  Don't  hurt  me,  Philip,  or 
I'll  scream  to  the  soldier  out  there." 

"  I  won't  hurt  you,  Moll.  Be  quiet  now, 
there's  a  good  girl.  Come  here  and  take  a  sup 
more  of  brandy." 

"  I  won't.  You  want  to  hurt  me.  But  you 
can't.  I'm  a  match  for  you  both.  Ha !  ha ! 
You  don't  know  how  nicely  I  slipped  away  from 
the  soldiers  when  they  were  resting.  I  went 
into  the  thick  bushes,  right  down  in  the  water, 
and  lay  still.  I  wanted  to  laugh  when  I  saw 
them  hunting  for  me,  and  I  could  almost  have 
touched  the  young  officer  if  I  had  wished.  "But 
I  lay  still  as  a  mouse,  and  they  went  off  and 
never  found  me.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !" 

''  Is  she  drunk  or  mad  ?"  asked  Pawbon. 

'•'  jMad,"  answered  Philip,  "  but  cunning  enough 
to  do  mischief,  if  she  has  a  mind  to.  Moll,  dear, 
come  sit  down  here  and  be  quiet;  come,  now." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  201 

"  Mad  ?  mad  ?"  murmured  Moll,  catcliing  his 
word.  "  Ko,  I'm  not  mad,"  she  continued  wildly, 
passing  her  hands  over  her  brows,  ^'  but  I  saw 
spirits  just  now  in  the  woods,  and  heard  voices, 
and  they've  frightened  me.  The  ghost  of  the 
girl  that  died  in  the  hospital  was  there.  You 
knew  little  blue-eyed  Lizzie,  Philip.  She  was 
cursing  me  when  she  died  and  calling  for  her 
mother.  But  I  don't  care.  The  man  paid  me 
well  for  getting  her,  and  'twasn't  my  fault  if 
she  got  sick  and  died.  Poor  thing  !  poor  thing ! 
poor  little  blue-eyed  Lizzie  !  She  was  innocent 
enough,  when  she  first  came,  but  she  got  to  be 
as  bad  as  any — until  she  got  sick  and  died. 
Poor  little  Lizzie  !"  And  thus  murmuring  inco- 
herently, the  unhappy  woman  sat  down  upon 
the  floor,  and  bent  her  head  upon  her  knees. 

"  Clap  that  into  her  mouth,"  whispered 
Philip,  handing  Kawbon  his  handkerchief  rolled 
tightly  into  a  ball.  "  Quietly  now,  but  quick. 
Look  out  now.     She's  strong  as  a  trooper." 

They  approached  her  without  noise,  but  sud- 
denly, and  while  Philip  grasped  her  wrists, 
Eawbon  threw  back  her  head,  and  forcing  the 
jaws  open  by  a  violent  pressure  of  his  knuckles 
9* 


203  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

against  the  joint,  thrust  the  handkerchief  be- 
tween her  teeth  and  bound  it  tightly  there  with 
two  turns  of  his  sash.  The  shriek  was  checked 
upon  her  hps  and  changed  into  a  painful,  gurg- 
ling groan.  The  poor  creature,  with  convulsive 
efforts,  struggled  to  free  her  arms  from  Philip's 
grasp,  but  he  managed  to  keep  his  hold  until 
Rawbon  had  secured  her  wrists  with  the  stout 
cord  that  suspended  his  canteen.  A  silk  neck- 
erchief was  then  tightly  bound  around  her 
ankles,  and  Moll,  with  heaving  breast  and  glar- 
ing eyes,  lay,  moaning  piteously,  but  speechless 
and  motionless,  upon  the  floor. 

"  We  can  leave  her  there,"  said  Rawbon.  "  It's 
not  likely  any  of  your  men  will  come  in,  until 
morning  at  least.     Let's  be  off  at  once." 

Philip  snatched  up  the  parchment  where  it 
had  fallen,  and  silently  followed  his  companion. 

"  We  are  going  beyond  the  line  to  look  about 
a  bit,"  he  said  to  the  sergeant  on  duty,  as  they 
passed  his  post.  "  Keep  all  still  and  quiet  till 
we  return." 

^'  Take  some  of  the  boys  with  you,  captain," 
replied  the  sergeant.  '*  We're  impleasant  close 
to  those  devils,  sir." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  203 

"  It's  all  riglit,  sergeant.  There's  no  danger." 
And  nodding  to  Setli,  the  two  walked  leisurely 
along  the  road  until  concealed  by  the  darkness, 
when  they  quickened  their  pace  and  pushed 
boldly  toward  the  Confederate  lines. 

Half  an  hour,  or  less  perhaps,  after  their  de- 
parture, the  sentry,  posted  at  about  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  house,  observed  an  unusual  light 
gleaming  from  the  windows  of  the  old  farm- 
house. He  called  the  attention  of  Lieutenant 
Williams,  who  was  walking  by  in  conversation 
with  the  sergeant,  to  the  circumstance. 

"  Is  not  the  captain  there  ?"  asked  the  lieute- 
nant. 

"  ]^o,  sir,"  replied  the  sergeant,  *'  he  started 
off  to  go  beyond  the  line  half  an  hour  ago." 

"Alone?" 

"  IS'o,  sir ;  that  chap  that  came  in  at  dusk 
was  with  him." 

"  It's  strange  he  should  have  gone  without 
speaking  to  me  about  it." 

"  I  wanted  him  to  take  some  of  our  fellows 
along,  sir,  but  he  didn't  care  to.  By  George! 
that  house  is  afire,  sir.     Look  there." 

While    talking,   they  had    been    proceeding 


204  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

toward  tlie  farm-house,  wlien  the  light  from  the 
"windows  brightened  snddenlj  into  a  broad 
glare,  and  called  forth  the  sergeant's  exclama- 
tion. Before  thej  reached  the  building  a  jet 
of  flame  had  leaped  from  one  of  the  casements, 
and  continued  to  whirl  like  a  flaming  ribbon  in 
the  air.  Thev  quickened  their  pace  to  a  run, 
and  bursting  into  the  doorway,  were  driven 
back  by  a  dense  volume  of  smoke,  that  rolled 
in  black  masses  along  the  corridor.  They  went 
in  again,  and  the  sergeant  pushed  open  the  door 
of  the  room  where  Moll  lay  bound,  but  shut  it 
quickly  again,  as  a  tongue  of  flame  lashed  itself 
toward  him  like  an  angry  snake. 

"  It's  all  afire,  sir,"  he  said,  coughing  and 
spluttering  through  the  smoke.  "  Are  there  any 
of  the  captain's  traps  inside  ?" 

"^Nothing  at  all,"  replied  the  lieutenant. 
"  Let's  go  in,  however,  and  see  what  can  be 
done." 

Tliey  entered,  but  were  driven  back  by  the 
bafiiing  smoke  and  the  flames  that  were  now 
licking  all  over  the  dry  plastering  of  the  room. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  the  lieutenant,  when  they 
had    gained     theii*    breath    in    the    open    air. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  205 

"  There's  no  Wcater,  except  in  the  brook  down 
yonder,  and  what  the  men  have  in  their  can- 
teens. The  honse  is  like  tinder.  Let  it  go, 
sergeant  ;  it's  not  worth  saving  at  the  risk  of 
singing  your  whiskers." 

The  men  had  now  come  np,  and  gathered 
about  the  officer  to  receive  his  commands. 

"  Let  tlie  old  shed  go,  my  lads,"  he  said. 
"  It's  well  enough  that  some  rebel  should  give 
ns  a  bonfire  now  and  then.  Only  stand  out  of 
the  glare,  boys,  or  you  may  have  some  of  those 
devils  yonder  making  targets  of  you." 

The  men  fell  back  into  the  shadow,  and  stand- 
ing in  little  groups,  or  seated  upon  the  sward, 
watched  the  burning  house,  well  pleased  to 
have  some  spectacle  to  relieve  the  monotony 
of  the  night.  And  they  looked  w^ith  indolent 
gratification,  passing  the  light  jest  and  the 
merry  word,  while  the  red  flames  kept  up  their 
wild  sport,  and  great  masses  of  rolling  vapor 
upheaved  from  the  crackling  roof,  and  black- 
ened the  midnight  sky.  Xone  sought  to  read 
the  mystery  of  that  conflagration.  It  was  but 
an  old  barn  gone  to  ashes  a  little  before  its 
time.     Perhaps  some  mischievous  hand  among 


206  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

them  had  applied  the  torch  for  a  bit  of  devil- 
try. Perhaps  the  flames  had  caught  from 
Kawbon's  pipe,  which  he  had  thrown  carelessly 
among  a  heap  of  rubbish  when  startled  by  Molly's 
sudden  apparition.  Or  yet,  perhaps,  though 
Heaven  forbid  it,  for  the  sake  of  human  nature, 
the  same  hand  that  had  struck  so  nearly  fatally 
once,  had  been  tempted  to  complete  the  work 
of  death  in  a  more  terrible  form. 

But  within  those  blistering  walls,  who  can 
tell  what  ghastly  revels  the  mad  flames  were 
having  over  their  bound  and  solitary  victim! 
Perhaps,  as  she  lay  there  with  distended  jaws, 
and  eyeballs  starting  from  their  sockets,  that 
brain,  amid  the  visions  of  its  madness,  became 
conscious  of  the  first  kindling  of  the  subtle 
element  that  was  so  soon  to  clasp  her  in  its 
terrible  embrace.  How  dreadful,  while  the 
long  minutes  dragged,  to  watch  its  stealthy 
progress,  and  to  feel  that  one  little  efiort  of 
an  unbound  hand  could  avert  the  danger,  and 
yet  to  lie  there  helpless,  motionless,  without 
even  the  power  to  give  utterance  to  the  shriek 
of  terror  which  strained  her  throat  to  sufi*oca- 
tion.     And  then,  as  the  creeping  flame  became 


LOYE    AND    SECESSION.  §07 

stronger  and  brighter,  and  took  long  and  silent 
leaps  from  one  object  to  another,  gliding  along 
the  lathed  and  papered  wall,  rolling  and  curl- 
ing along  the  raftered  ceiling,  would  not  the 
wretched  woman,  raving  already  in  delirium, 
behold  the  spectres  that  her  madness  feared, 
beckoning  to  her  in  the  lurid  glare,  or  gliding 
in  and  out  among  the  wild  fires  that  whirled 
in  fantastic  gambols  around  and  overhead! 
IS'earer  and  nearer  yet  the  rolling  flame  ad- 
vances ;  it  commences  to  hiss  and  murmur  in 
its  progress ;  it  wreathes  itself  about  the  chairs 
and  tables,  and  laps  up  the  little  pool  of  brandy 
spilled  from  the  forgotten  flask  ;  it  plays  about 
her  feet,  and  creeps  lazily  amid  the  folds  of 
her  gown,  yet  wet  from  the  brook  in  which 
she  had  concealed  herself  that  day ;  it  scorches 
and  shrivels  up  the  flesh  upon  her  limbs,  while 
pendent  fiery  tongues  leap  from  the  burning 
rafters,  and  kiss  her  cheeks  and  brows  where 
the  black  veins  swell  almost  to  bursting ;  every 
muscle  and  nerve  of  her  frame  is  strained  with 
convulsive  efforts  to  escape,  but  the  cords  only 
sink  into  the  bloating  flesh,  and  she  lies  there 
crisping  like  a  log,  and  as  powerless  to  move. 


208  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

The  dense,  black  smoke  hangs  over  her  like  a 
pall,  but  prostrate  as  she  is,  it  cannot  sink 
low  enough  to  sufiocate  and  end  her  agony. 
How  the  bared  bosom  heaves!  how  the  tor- 
tured limbs  writhe,  and  the  blackening  cuticle 
emits  a  nauseous  steam!  Tlie  black  blood 
oozing  from  her  nostrils  proclaims  how  terrible 
the  inward  struggle.  The  whole  frame  bends 
and  shrinks,  and  warps  like  a  fragment  of 
leather  thrown  into  a  furnace — the  flame  has 
reached  her  vitals — at  last,  bj  God's  mercj, 
she  is  dead. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  20^ 


CHxiPTER  XX. 

At  dawn  of  tlie  morning  of  the  21st  of  July, 
an  officer  in  23lain  undress  was  bnsily  writing  at 
a  table  in  a  plainlj-furnislied  apartment  of  a 
farm-house  near  Manassas.  He  was  of  middle 
age  and  medium  size,  with  dark  complexion, 
bold,  prominent  features,  and  steady,  piercing 
black  eyes.  His  manner  and  the  respectful 
demeanor  of  several  officers  in  attendance,  rather 
than  any  insignia  of  office  which  he  wore, 
bespoke  him  of  high  rank ;  and  the  earnest 
attention  which  he  bestowed  upon  his  labor, 
together  with  the  numerous  orders,  written  and 
verbal,  which  he  delivered  at  intervals  to  mem- 
bers of  his  staff,  denoted  that  an  affair  of 
importance  was  in  hand.  Several  horses,  ready 
caparisoned,  were  held  by  orderlies  at  the  door- 
way, and  each  aid,  as  he  received  instructions, 
mounted  and  dashed  away  at  a  gallop. 

Tlie  building  was  upon  a  slight  elevation  of 
land,  and  along  the  plain  beneath  could  be  seen 


210  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

the  long  rows  of  tents  and  the  curling  smoke  of 
camp-fires  ;  while  the  hum  of  many  voices  in  the 
distance,  with  here  and  there  a  bugle-blast  and 
the  spirit-stirring  roll  of  drums,  denoted  the  site 
of  the  Confederate  army.  The  reveille  had  just 
sounded,  and  the  din  of  active  preparation  could 
be  heard  throughout  the  camp.  Regiments 
were  forming,  and  troops  of  horse  were  mar- 
shalling in  squadron,  while  others  were  galloping 
here  and  there ;  while,  through  the  ringing  of 
sabres  and  the  strains  of  marshal  music,  the  low 
rumbling  of  the  heavy- wheeled  artillery  was  the 
most  ominous  sound. 

An  orderly  entered  the  apartment  where  Gene- 
ral Beauregard  was  writing,  and  spoke  with  one 
of  the  members  of  the  staff  in  waiting. 

"What  is  it,  colonel?"  asked  the  general, 
looking  up. 

"  An  officer  from  the  outposts,  with  two 
prisoners,  general."  And  he  added  something 
in  a  lower  tone. 

"  Yery  opportune,"  said  Beauregard.  "  Let 
them  come  in." 

Hie  orderly  withdrew  and  reentered  with 
Captain  Weems,  followed  by  Philip  Searle  and 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  211 

Kawbon.  A  glance  of  recognition  passed  be- 
tween the  latter  and  Beauregard,  and  Seth, 
obeying  a  gesture  of  the  general,  advanced  and 
placed  a  small  package  on  the  table.  The  gene- 
ral opened  it  hastily  and  glanced  over  its  contents. 

"As  I  thought,"  he  muttered.  "  You  are  sure 
as  to  the  disposition  of  the  advance  ?" 

"  Quite  sure  of  the  main  features." 

"  When  did  you  get  in  ?" 

"  Only  an  hour  ago.  Their  vanguard  was 
close  behind.  Before  noon,  I  think  they  will  be 
upon  you  in  three  columns  from  the  different 
roads." 

"  Yery  well,  you  may  go  now.  Come  to  me 
in  half  an  hour.  I  shall  have  work  for  you. 
Who  is  that  with  you  ?" 

"  Captain  Searle." 

"  Of  whom  we  spoke  ?" 

"  The  same." 

The  general  nodded,  and  Seth  left  the  apart- 
ment. Beauregard  for  a  second  scanned  Philip's 
countenance  with  a  searching  glance. 

"Approach,  sir,  if  you  please.  We  have 
little  time  for  words.  Have  you  information  to 
impart  ?" 


212  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"Nothing  beyond  what  I  think  you  know 
already.  You  may  expect  at  every  moment  to 
hear  the  boom  of  McDowell's  guns." 

"  On  the  right  ?" 

"  I  think  the  movement  will  be  on  your  left. 
Kichardson  remains  on  the  soutliern  road,  in 
reserve.  Tyler  commands  the  centre.  Carlisle, 
Kicket  and  Ay  re  will  give  you  trouble  there 
with  their  batteries.  Hunter  and  Heintzelman, 
with  fourteen  thousand,  will  act  upon  your  left." 

"Then  we  are  wrong,  Taylor,"  said  Beaure- 
gard, turning  to  an  officer  at  his  side ;  and 
rising,  the  two  conversed  for  a  moment  in  low 
but  earnest  tone. 

"  It  is  plausible,"  said  Beauregard,  at  length. 
"Taylor,  ride  down  to  Bee  and  see  about  it. 
Captain  Searle,  you  will  report  yourself  to  Colo- 
nel Hampton  at  once.  He  will  have  orders  for 
you.  Captain  Weems,  you  will  please  see  him 
provided  for.     Come,  gentlemen,  to  the  field !" 

The  £:eneral  and  his  staff  were  soon  mounted 
and  riding  rapidly  toward  the  masses  and  long 
lines  of  troops  that  were  marshalling  on  tlie 
plain  below. 

Beverly    stood   at    the    doorway   alone   with 


LOYE    Am)    SECESSION.  213 

Philip  Searle.  He  was  grave  and  sad,  although 
the  bustle  and  preparation  of  an  expected  battle 
lent  a  lustre  to  his  eye.  To  his  companion  he 
was  stern  and  distant,  and  they  both  walked 
onward  for  some  moments  without  a  word.  At 
a  short  distance  from  the  building,  they  came 
upon  a  black  groom  holding  two  saddled  horses. 

"  Mount,  sir,  if  you  please,"  said  Beverly,  and 
they  rode  forward  at  a  rapid  pace.  Philip  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  observe  that  their  course 
lay  away  from  the  camp,  and  in  fact  the  sounds 
of  military  life  were  lessening  as  they  went  on. 
They  passed  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  descended 
by  a  bridle-path  into  a  little  valley,  thick  with 
shrubbery  and  trees.  At  the  gateway  of  a  plea- 
sant looking  cottage  Beverly  drew  rein. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  enter  here,"  he  said,  dis- 
mounting. "  Within  a  few  hours  we  shall  both 
be,  probably,  in  the  ranks  of  battle ;  but  first  I 
have  a  duty  to  perform." 

They  entered  the  cottage,  within  which  all 
was  hushed  and  still ;  the  sounds  of  an  active 
household  were  not  heard.  Tliey  ascended  the 
little  stair,  and  Beverly  pushed  gently  open  the 
door  of  an  apartment  and  motioned  to  Philip  to 


214:  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

enter.  He  paused  at  first,  for  as  lie  stood  on  the 
threshold  a  low  sob  reached  his  ear. 

"Pass  in,"  said  Beverlj,  in  a  grave,  stern 
tone.  "I  have  promised  that  I  would  bring 
you,  else,  be  assured,  I  would  not  linger  in  your 
presence." 

They  entered.  It  was  a  small,  pleasant  room, 
and  through  the  lattice,  interwoven  with  wood- 
bine the  rising  sun  looked  in  like  a  friendly 
visitor.  Upon  a  bed  was  stretched  the  form  of  a 
young  girl,  sleeping  or  dead,  it  would  be  hard 
to  tell,  the  features  were  so  placid  and  beautiful 
in  repose.  One  ray  of  sunlight  fell  among  the 
tangles  of  her  golden  hair,  and  glowed  like  a 
halo  above  the  marble- white  brow.  The  long 
dark  lashes  rested  upon  her  cheek  with  a  deli- 
cate contrast  like  that  of  the  velvety  moss  when 
it  peeps  from  the  new-fallen  snow.  Her  hands 
were  folded  upon  her  bosom  above  the  white 
coverlet ;  they  clasped  a  lily,  that  seemed  as  if 
sculptured  upon  a  churchyard  stone,  so  white 
was  the  flower,  so  white  the  bosom  that  it 
pressed.  One  step  nearer  revealed  that  she  was 
dead  ;  earthly  sleep  was  never  so  calm  and  beau- 
tiful.     By    the    bedside    Oriana    Weems    was 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  215 

seated,  weeping  silently.  She  arose  when  her 
brother  entered,  and  went  to  him,  putting  her 
hands  about  liis  neck.  Beverly  tenderly  circled 
his  arm  about  her  waist,  and  they  stood  together 
at  the  bedside,  gazing  on  all  that  death  had  left 
upon  earth  of  their  young  cousin,  Miranda. 

"  She  died  this  morning  very  soon  after  you 
left,"  said  Oriana,  "  without  pain  and  I  think 
without  sorrow,  for  she  wore  that  same  sweet 
smile  that  you  see  now  frozen  upon  her  lips. 
Oh,  Beverly,  I  am  sorry  you  brought  him  here  !" 
she  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  glancing  with  a  shud- 
der at  Philip  Searle,  who  stood  looking  with  a 
frown  out  at  the  lattice,  and  stopping  the  sun- 
beam from  coming  into  the  room.  "  It  seems," 
she  continued,  "  as  if  his  presence  brought  a 
curse  that  would  drag  upon  the  angels'  wings 
that  are  bearing  her  to  heaven.  Though,  thank 
God,  she  is  beyond  his  power  to  harm  her  now!" 
and  she  knelt  beside  the  pillow  and  pressed  her 
lips  upon  the  cold,  white  brow. 

*^  She  wished  to  see  him,  Oriana,  before  she 
died,"  said  Beverly,  "  and  I  promised  to  bring 
him ;  and  yet  I  am  glad  she  passed  away  before 
his  coming,  for  I  am  sure  he  could  bring  no 


216  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

peace  witli  him  for  tlie  dying,  and  liis  presence 
now  is  but  an  insult  to  the  dead." 

When  he  had  spoken,  there  was  silence  for  a 
while,  which  was  broken  bj  the  sudden  boom 
of  a  distant  cannon.  They  all  started  at  the 
sound,  for  it  awakened  them  from  mournful 
memories,  to  yet  perhaps  more  solemn  thoughts 
of  what  was  to  come  before  that  bright  sun 
should  rise  upon  the  morrow.  Beverly  turned 
slowly  to  where  Philip  stood,  and  pointed  sternly 
at  the  death-bed. 

"  You  have  seen  enough,  if  you  have  dared 
to  look  at  all,"  he  said.  ''  I  have  not  the  power, 
nor  the  will,  to  punish.  A  soldier's  death  to-day 
is  what  you  can  best  pray  for,  that  you  may  not 
live  to  think  of  this  hereafter.  She  sent  for  you 
to  forgive  you,  but  died  and  you  are  unforgiven. 
Bad  as  you  are,  I  j)ity  you  that  you  must  go 
to  battle  haunted  by  the  remembrance  of  this 
murder  that  you  have  done." 

Philip  half  turned  with  an  angry  curl  upon 
his  lip,  as  if  prepared  for  some  harsh  answer; 
but  he  saw  the  white  thin  face  and  folded  hands, 
and  left  the  room  without  a  word. 

"  Farewell !  dear  sister,"  said  Beverly,  clasp- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  217 

ing  the  weeping  girl  in  his  arms.  "  I  have 
already  overstaid  the  hour,  and  must  spur  hard 
to  he  at  my  post  in  time.  God  bless  you !  it 
may  be  I  shall  never  see  you  again ;  if  so,  I 
leave  you  to  God  and  my  country.  But  I  trust 
all  will  be  well." 

"  Oh,  Beverly  !  come  back  to  me,  my  brother ; 
I  am  alone  in  the  world 'without  you.  I  would 
not  have  you  swerve  from  your  duty,  although, 
death  came  with  it ;  but  yet,  remember  that  I 
am  alone  without  you,  and  be  not  rash  or  reck- 
less. I  will  watch  and  pray  for  you  beside  this 
death-bed,  Beverly,  while  you  are  fighting,  and 
may  God  be  with  you." 

Beverly  summoned  an  old  negress  to  the 
room,  and  consigned  his  sister  to  her  care.  De- 
scending the  stairs  rapidly,  he  leaped  upon  his 
horse,  and  waving  his  hand  to  Philip,  who  was 
already  mounted,  they  plunged  along  the  valley, 
and  ascending  the  crest  of  the  hill,  beheld,  while 
they  still  spurred  on,  the  vast  army  in  motion 
before  them,  while  far  off  in  the  vanward,  from 
time  to  time,  the  dull,  heavy  booming  of  artil- 
lery told  that  the  work  was  already  begun. 
10 


218  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XXL 

On  the  evening  of  the  20th  July,  Hunter's 
division,  to  which  Harold  Hare  was  attached, 
was  bivouacked  on  the  old  Braddock  Road, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  southeast  of  Centreville. 
It  was  midnight.  TJiere  was  a  strange  and 
solemn  hush  throughout  the  camp,  broken  only 
by  the  hail  of  the  sentinel  and  the  occasional 
trampling  of  horses  hoofs,  as  some  aid-de-camp 
galloped  hastily  along  the  line.  Some  of  the 
troops  were  sleeping,  dreaming,  perhaps,  of 
home,  and  far  away,  for  the  time,  from  the 
thougrht  of  the  morrow's  dan2:er.  But  most 
were  keeping  vigil  through  the  long  hours  of 
darkness,  communing  with  themselves  or  talking 
in  low  murmurs  with  some  comrade ;  for  each 
soldier  knew  that  the  battle-hour  was  at  liand. 
Harold  was  stretched  upon  his  cloak,  striving  in 
vain  to  win  the  boon  of  an  hour's  sleep,  for  he 
was  weary  with  the  toil  of  the  preceding  day ; 
but  he  could  not  shut  out  from  his  brain  the 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  219 

whirl  of  excitement  and  suspense  wliich  that 
night  kept  so  many  tired  fellows  wakeful  when 
they  most  needed  rest.  It  was  useless  to  court 
slumber,  on  the  eve,  perhaps,  of  his  eternal 
sleep;  he  arose  and  walked  about  into  the 
night.  . 

Standing  beside  the  dying  embers  of  a  watch- 
fire,  wrapped  in  his  blanket,  and  gazing  thought- 
fully into  the  little  drowsy  flames  that  yet  curled 
about  the  blackened  fagots,  was  a  tall  and 
manly  form,  which  Harold  recognized  as  that  of 
his  companion  in  arms,  a  young  lieutenant  of  his 
company.  He  approached,  and  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  fellow-soldier's  arm. 

^^What  book  of  fate  are  you  reading  in  the 
ashes,  Harry?"  he  asked,  in  a  pleasant  tone, 
anxious  to  dispel  some  portion  of  his  own  and 
his  comrade's  moodiness. 

The  soldier  turned  to  him  and  smiled,  but  sor- 
rowfully and  with  effort. 

"My  own  destiny,  perhaps,"  he  answered. 
"Tliose  ashes  were  glowing  once  with  light  and 
warmth,  and  before  the  dawn  they  will  be  cold, 
as  you  or  I  may  be  to-morrow,  Harold." 

"  I  thought  you  were  too  old  a  soldier  to  nurse 


220  F^^RT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

such  fancies  upon  the  eve  of  battle.  1  must 
confess  that  I,  who  am  a  novice  in  this  work,  am 
as  restless  and  nervous  as  a  woman  ;  but  you 
have  been  seasoned  by  a  Mexican  campaign, 
and  I  came  to  you  expressly  to  be  laughed  into 
fortitude  again." 

"You  must  go  on  till  you  meet  one  more 
lighthearted  than  myself,"  answered  the  other, 
with  a  sigh.  ''  Ah !  Harold,  I  have  noue  of  the 
old  elasticity  about  me  to-night.  I  would  I  were 
back  under  my  father's  roof,  never  to  hear  the 
roll  of  the  battle-drum  again.  Tliis  is  a  cruel 
war,  Harold." 

"A just  one." 

"  Yes,  but  cruel.  Have  you  any  that  you  love 
over  yonder,  Harold  ?  Any  that  are  dear  to  you, 
and  that  you  must  strike  at  on  the  morrow  ?" 

"  Yes,  Harry,  that  is  it.  It  is,  as  you  say,  a 
cruel  war." 

''  I  have  a  brother  there,"  continued  his  com- 
panion ;  and  he  looked  sadly  into  the  gloom,  as 
if  he  yearned  through  the  darkness  and  distance 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  well-kno^vn  form.  "A 
brother  that,  when  I  last  saw  him,  was  a  little 
rosy-cheeked  boy,  and  used   to  ride  upon   my 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  221 

knee.  lie  is  scarce  more  tliaii  a  boy  now,  and 
yet  lie  will  shoulder  Lis  musket  to-morrow,  and 
stand  in  the  ranks  perhaps  to  he  cut  down  by 
the  hand  that  has  caressed  him.  lie  was  our 
mother's  darling,  and  it  is  a  mercy  that  she 
is  not  living  to  see  us  armed  against  each  other." 

"It  is  a  painful  thought,"  said  Harold,  "and 
one  that  you  should  dismiss  from  contemplation. 
The  chances  are  thousands  to  one  that  you  will 
never  meet  in  battle." 

"  I  trust  the  first  bullet  that  will  be  fired  may 
reach  my  heart,  rather  than  that  we  should. 
But  who  can  tell?  I  have  a  strange,  gloomy 
feeling  upon  me  ;  I  would  say  a  presentiment,  if 
I  were  superstitious." 

"  It  is  a  natural  feeling  upon  the  eve  of  battle. 
Think  no  more  of  it.  Look  how  prettily  the 
moon  is  creeping  from  under  the  edge  of  yonder 
cloud.  ^Ye  shall  have  a  bright  day  for  the  fight, 
I  think." 

"Yes,  that's  a  comfort.  One  fights  all  the 
better  in  the  warm  sunlight,  as  if  to  show  the 
bright  heavens  what  bloodthirsty  devils  Ave  can 
be  upon  occasion.     Ilark !" 

It  was  the  roll  of  the  drum,  startling  the  still- 


FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


ness  of  the  niglit ;  and  presently,  the  brief,  stern 
orders  of  the  sergeants  could  be  heard  calling 
the  men  into  the  ranks.  There  is  a  strange 
mingled  feeling  of  awe  and  excitement  in  this 
marshalling  of  men  at  night  for  a  dangerous 
expedition.  The  orders  are  given  instinctively 
in  a  more  subdued  and  sterner  tone,  as  if  in 
unison  with  the  solemnity  of  the  hour.  The 
tramp  of  marching  feet  strikes  with  a  more  dis- 
tinct and  hollow  sound  upon  the  ear.  The  dark 
masses  seem  to  move  more  compactly,  as  if  each 
soldier  drew  nearer  to  his  comrade  for  compa- 
nionship. The  very  horses,  although  alert  and 
eager,  seem  to  forego  their  prancing,  and  move 
with  sober  tread.  And  when  the  word  "  for- 
ward !"  rings  along  the  dark  column,  and  the 
long  and  silent  ranks  bend  and  move  on  as  with 
an  electric  impulse,  there  is  a  thrill  in  every 
vein,  and  each  heart  contracts  for  an  instant,  as 
if  the  black  portals  of  a  terrible  destiny  were 
open  in  the  van. 

A  half  hour  of  silent  hurry  and  activity 
passed  away,  and  at  last  the  whole  army  was  in 
motion.  It  was  now  three  o'clock ;  the  moon 
shone  down  upon   the   serried  ranks,  gleaming 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  223 

from  bayonet  and  cannon,  and  stretching  long 
black  shadows  athwart  the  road.  From  time  to 
time  along  the  column  could  be  heard  tlie  ring- 
ing voice  of  some  commander,  as  he  galloped  to 
the  van,  cheering  his  men  with  some  well-timed 
allusion,  or  dispelling  the  surrounding  gloom  with 
a  cheerful  promise  of  victory.  Where  tlie  wood 
road  branched  from  the  Warrentown.  turnpike. 
Gen.  McDowell,  standing  in  his  open  carriage, 
looked  down  upon  the  passing  columns,  and 
raised  his  hat,  when  the  excited  soldiers  cheered 
as  they  hurried  on.  Here  Hunter's  column 
turned  to  the  right,  while  the  main  body  moved 
straight  on  to  the  centre.  Then  all  became 
more  silent  than  before,  and  the  light  .  jest 
passing  from  comrade  to  comrade  was  less  fre- 
quent, for  each  one  felt  that  every  step  onward 
brouf>:ht  him  nearer  to  the  foe. 

The  eastern  sky  soon  paled  into  a  greyish, 
light,  and  ruddy  streaks  pushed  out  from  the 
horizon.  The  air  breathed  fresher  and  purer 
than  in  the  darkness,  and  the  bright  sun,  with 
an  advance  guard  of  thin,  rosy  clouds,  shot 
upward  from  the  horizon  in  a  blaze  of  splendor. 
It  was  the  Sabbath  morn. 


224  FORT  lafaye3:te;  or, 

The  boom  of  a  heavy  gun  is  heard  from  the 
centre.  Carlisle  has  opened  the  ball.  The 
day's  work  is  begun.  Anotlier !  The  echoes 
spring  from  the  hillsides  all  around,  like  a  thou- 
sand angry  tongues  that  threaten  death.  But 
on  the  right,  no  trace  of  an  enemy  is  to  be  seen. 
Burnside's  brigade  was  in  the  van  ;  they 
reached  the  ford  at  Sudley's  Springs  ;  a  momen- 
tary confusion  ensues  as  the  column  prepares  to 
cross.  Soon  the  men  are  pushing  boldly  through 
the  shallow  stream,  but  the  temptation  is  too  great 
for  their  parched  throats  ;  they  stoop  to  drink  and 
to  fill  their  canteens  from  the  cool  wave.  But 
as  they  look  up  they  see  a  cloud  of  dust  roll- 
ing up  from  the  plain  beyond,  and  their  thirst 
has  passed  away — they  know  that  the  foe  is 
there. 

An  aid  comes  spurring  down  the  bank, 
waving  his  hand  and  splashing  into  the  stream. 

''  Forward,  men  !  forward  !" 

Hunter  gallops  to  meet  him,  with  his  staff 
clattering  at  his  horse's  heels. 

"  Break  the  heads  of  regiments  from  the  col- 
umn and  push  on — ^pusli  on  !" 

Tlie  field  officers  dash  along  the  ranks,  and  the 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  225 

men  spring  to  tlieir  work,  as  tlie  word  of  com- 
mand is  echoed  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

Crossing  the  stream,  their  course  extended  for 
a  mile  through  a  thick  wood,  but  soon  they  came 
to  the  open  country,  with  unduhiting  fields, 
rolling  toward  a  little  valley  through  which  a 
brooklet  ran.  And  beyond  that  stream,  among 
the  trees  and  foliage  which  line  its  bank  and 
extend  in  wooded  patches  southward,  the  left 
wing  of  the  enemy  are  in  battle  order. 

From  a  clump  of  bushes  directly  in  front, 
came  a  puff  of  white  smoke  wreathed  with 
flame  ;  the  whir  of  the  hollow  ball  is  heard,  and 
it  ploughs  the  moist  ground  a  few  rods  from 
our  advance. 

Scarcely  had  the  dull  report  reverberated, 
when,  in  quick  succession,  a  dozen  jets  of  fire 
gleamed  out,  and  the  shells  came  plunging  into 
the  ranks.  Burnside's  brigade  was  in  advance 
and  unsupported,  but  under  the  iron  hail  the 
line  was  formed,  and  the  cry  "  Forward  !"  was 
answered  with  a  cheer..  A  long  grey  line  spread 
out  upon  the  hillside,  forming  rapidly  from  the 
outskirts  of  the  little  wood.     It  was  the  Southern 

10* 


226  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

iiifantiy,  and  soon  along  their  line  a  deadly  fire 
of  musketry  was  opened. 

Meanwhile  the  heavy  firing  from  the  left  and 
further  on,  announced  that  the  centre  and 
extreme  left  were  engaged.  A  detachment  of 
regulars  was  sent  to  Burnside's  relief,  and  held 
the  enemy  in  check  till  a  portion  of  Porter's  and 
Heintzelman's  division  came  up  and  pressed 
them  back  from  their  position. 

The  battle  was  fiercely  raging  in  the  centre, 
where  the  69th  had  led  the  van  and  were  charg- 
ing the  murderous  batteries  with  the  bayonet. 
"We  must  leave  their  deeds  to  be  traced  by  the 
historic  pen,  and  confine  our  narrative  to  the 
scene  in  which  Harold  bore  a  part.  The  nearest 
battery,  supported  by  Carolinians,  had  been 
silenced.  The  Mississippians  had  wavered  before 
successive  charges,  and  an  Alabama  regiment, 
after  four  times  hurling  back  the  serried  ranks 
that  dashed  against  them,  had  fallen  back,  out- 
flanked and  terribly  cut  up.  On  the  left  was  a 
farm-house,  situated  on  an  elevated  ridge  a  little 
back  from  the  road.  Within,  while  the  fiercest 
battle  raged,  was  its  solitary  inmate,  an  aged 
and  bed-ridden  lady,  whose  paralyzed  and  help- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  227 

less  form  was  stretched  upon  the  bed  where  for 
fourscore  years  she  had  slept  the  calm  sleep  of  a 
Christian.  She  had  sent  her  attendants  from  the 
dwelling  to  seek  a  place  of  safety,  but  would  not 
herself  consent  to  be  removed,  for  she  heard  the 
whisper  of  the  angel  of  death,  and  chose  to  meet 
him  there  in  the  house  of  her  childhood.  For 
the  possession  of  the  hill  on  which  the  building 
stood,  the  opposing  hosts  were  hotly  struggling. 
The  fury  of  the  battle  seemed  to  concentre  there, 
and  through  the  time-worn  walls  the  shot  was 
plunging,  splintering  the  planks  and  beams,  and 
shivering  tlie  stone  foundation.  Sherman's  bat- 
tery came  thundering  up  the  hill  upon  its  last 
desperate  advance.  Just  as  the  foaming  horses 
were  wheeled  upon  its  summit,  the  van  of 
Hampton's  legion  sprang  up  the  opposite  side, 
and  the  crack  of  a  hundred  rifles  simultaneously 
sounded.  Down  fell  the  cannoneers  beside  their 
guns  before  those  deadly  missiles,  and  the 
plunging  horses  were  slaughtered  in  the  traces, 
or,  wounded  to  the  death,  lashed  out  their  iron 
hoofs  among  the  maimed  and  writhing  soldiers 
and  into  the  heaps  of  dead.  The  battery  was 
captured,  but  held  only  for  an  instant,  when  two 


FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


companies  of  Eliocle  Islanders,  led  on  bj  Harold 
Hare,  charged  madlj  up  the  hill. 

"  Save  the  guns,  boys  I"  he  cried,  as  the  gal- 
lant fellows  bent  their  heads  low,  and  sprang 
up  the  ascent  right  in  the  face  of  the  blazing 
rifles. 

"  Fire  low  !  stand  firm  !  drive  them  back  once 
again,  mv  brave  Virginians !"  shouted  a  young 
Southern  officer,  springing  to  the  foremost  rank. 

The  mutual  fire  was  delivered  almost  at  the 
rifles'  muzzles,  and  the  long  sword-bajonets 
clashed  together.  Without  yielding  ground,  for 
a  few  terrible  seconds  they  thrust  and  parried 
with  the  clanging  steel,  while  on  either  side  the 
dead  were  stiffening  beneath  their  feet,  and  the 
wounded,  with  shrieks  of  agony,  were  clutching 
at  their  limbs.  Harold  and  the  young  Southron 
met ;  their  swords  clashed  together  once  in  the 
smoke  and  dust,  and  but  once,  when  each  drew 
back  and  lowered  his  weapon,  wliile  all  around 
were  striking.  Then,  amid  that  terrible  discord, 
their  two  left  hands  were  pressed  together  for  an 
instant,  and  a  low  "  God  bless  you  !"  came  from 
the  lips  of  both. 

"  To    the    right,   Beverly,   keep   you   to   the 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  229 

right !"  said  Harold,  and  lie  himself,  straight 
through  the  liostile  ranks,  sprang  in  an  o])posite 
direction. 

When  Harold's  party  had  first  charged  np  the 
hill,  the  young  lieutenant  with  ^lioni  he  had 
conversed  beside  the  watch-fire  on  the  previous 
evening,  was  at  the  head  of  his  platoon,  and  as 
the  two  bodies  met,  he  sent  the  last  shot  from  his 
revolver  full  in  the  faces  of  the  foremost  rank. 
So  close  were  they,  that  the  victim  of  that  shot, 
struck  in  the  centre  of  the  forehead,  tottered  for- 
ward, and  fell  into  his  arms.  There  was  a  cry 
of  horror  that  pierced  even  above  the  shrieks  of 
the  wounded  and  the  yells  of  the  fierce  com- 
batants. One  glance  at  that  fair,  ^'■outhful  face 
sufficed — it  was  his  brother — dead  in  his  arms, 
dead  by  a  brother's  hand.  The  yellow  hair  yet 
curled  above  the  temples,  but  the  rosy  bloom 
upon  the  cheek  was  gone  ;  already  the  ashen 
hue  of  death  was  there.  There  was  a  small 
round  hole  just  where  the  golden  locks  waved 
from  the  edge  of  the  brow,  and  from  it  there 
slowly  welled  a  single  globule  of  black  gore.  It 
left  the  face  undisfigured — ^pale,  but  tranquil 
and  undistorted  as  a  sleeping  child's — not  even 


280  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

a  clot  of  blood  was  there  to  mar  its  beauty.  The 
strong  and  manly  soldier  knelt  upon  the  dust, 
and  holding  the  dead  boy  with  both  arms 
clasped  about  his  waist,  bent  his  head  low  down 
upon  the  lifeless  bosom,  and  gasped  with  an 
agony  more  terrible  than  that  which  the  death- 
wound  gives. 

"  Charley  !  Oh  God !  Charley !  Charley !"  was 
all  that  came  from  his  white  lips,  and  he  sat 
there  like  stone,  with  the  corpse  in  his  arms,  still 
murmuring  "  Charley  !"  unconscious  that  blades 
were  flashing  and  bullets  whistling  around  him. 
The  blood  streamed  from  his  wounds,  the  bayo- 
nets were  gleaming  round,  and  once  a  random 
shot  ploughed  into  his  thigh  and  shivered  the 
bone.  He  only  bent  a  little  lower  and  his 
voice  was  fainter  ;  but  still  he  murmured 
"  Charley  !  Oh  God  !  Charley,"  and  never  un- 
folded his  arms  from  its  embrace.  And  there, 
when  the  battle  was  over,  the  Southrons  found 
\iim,  dead — with  his  dead  brother  in  his  arms. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  231 


CHAPTEH    XXn. 

At  tlie  door-way  of  the  building  on  the  hill, 
where  the  aged  invalid  was  yielding  her  last 
breath  amid  the  roar  of  battle,  a  wounded  officer 
sat  among  the  dying  and  the  dead,  while  the 
conflict  swept  a  little  away  from  that  quarter 
of  the  field.  Tlie  blood  was  streaming  from 
the  shattered  bosom,  and  feebly  he  strove  to 
staunch  it  with  his  silken  scarf.  He  had 
dragged  himself  through  gore  and  dust  until 
he  reached  that  spot,  and  now,  rising  again 
with  a  convulsive  effort,  he  leaned  his  red  hands 
against  the  wall,  and  entered  over  the  frag- 
ments of  the  door,  which  had  been  shivered  by 
a  shell.  With  tottering  steps  he  passed  along 
the  hall  and  up  the  little  stairway,  as  one  who 
had  been  familiar  wi!h  the  place.  Before  the 
door  of  the  aged  lady's  chamber  he  paused 
a  moment  and  listened;  all  was  still  there, 
although  the  terrible  tumult  of  the  battle  was 
soundino;  all  around.     He  entered  ;  he  advanced 


232  ^ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

to  the  bed-side ;  the  dying  -woman  was  mur- 
muring a  prayer.  A  random  shot  had  torn  the 
shrivelled  flesh  upon  her  bosom  and  the  white 
counterpane  was  stained  with  blood.  She  did 
not  see  him — her  thoughts  were  away  from 
earth,  she  was  already  seeking  communion  with 
the  spirits  of  the  blest.  The  soldier  knelt  by 
that  strange  death-bed  and  leaned  his  pale  brow 
upon  the  pillow. 

"  Mother !'' 

How  strangely  the  word  sounded  amid  the 
shouts  of  combatants  and  the  din  of  war.  It 
was  like  a  good  angel's  voice  drowning  the  dis- 
cords of  hell. 

"Mother!" 

She  heard  not  the  cannon's  roar,  but  that  one 
word,  scarce  louder  than  the  murmur  of  a  dream- 
ing infant,  reached  her  ear.  Tlie  palsied  head 
was  turned  upon  the  pillow  and  the  light  of  life 
returned  to  her  glazing  eyes. 

'-  Who  speaks  ?"  she  gasped,  while  her  thin 
hands  were  tremulously  clasped  together  with 
emotion. 

''  'Tis  I,  mother.     Philip,  your  son." 

"  Philip,  my  son  !"  and  the   nerveless   form, 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  033 

tliat  had  scarce  moved  for  years,  was  raised  upon 
the  bed  by  the  hist  yearning  effort  of  a  mother's 
love. 

"  Is  it  you,  Philip,  is  it  yon,  indeed  ?  I  can 
scarce  see  your  form,  but  surely  I  liave  heard 
the  voice  of  my  boy — my  long  absent  boy.  Oh  ! 
Philip !  why  have  I  not  heard  it  oftener  to  com- 
fort my  old  age  ?" 

"  I  am  dying,  mother.  I  have  been  a  bad 
son  and  a  guilty  man.  But  I  am  dying,  mother. 
Oh  !  I  am  punished  for  my  sin  !  The  avenging 
bullet  struck  me  dov/n  at  the  gate  of  the  lionie 
I  had  deserted — the  home  1  have  made  desolate 
to  you.     Mother,  I  have  crawled  here  to  die." 

"To  die!  O  God!  your  hand  is  cold — or  is 
it  but  the  chill  of  death  upon  my  own  ?  Oh  ! 
I  had  thought  to  have  said  farewell  to  earth 
forever,  but  yet  let  me  linger  but  a  little  while, 
O  Lord  !  if  but  to  bless  my  son."  She  sank 
exhausted  upon  the  ])illow,  but  yet  clasped  the 
gory  fingers  of  the  dying  man. 

"Philip,  are  you  there?  Let  me  hear  your 
voice.  I  hear  strange  murmurs  afar  off;  but 
not  the  voice  of  my  son.  Are  you  there,  Philip, 
are  you  there  ?" 


234  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

Philip  Searle  was  crouching  lower  and  lower 
by  the  bed-side,  and  his  forehead,  upon  which  the 
dews  of  death  were  starting,  lay  languidly  beside 
the  thin,  white  locks  that  rested  on  the  pillow. 

"  Look,  mother !"  he  said,  raising  his  head  and 
glaring  into  the  corner  of  the  room.  ''  Do  you 
see  that  form  in  white  ? — there — she  with  the 
pale  cheeks  and  golden  hair!  I  saw  her  once 
before  to-day,  when  she  lay  stretched  upon  the 
bed,  with  a  lily  in  her  white  fingers.  '  And  once 
again  I  saw  her  in  that  last  desperate  charge, 
when  the  bullet  struck  my  side.  And  now 
she  is  there  again,  pale,  motionless,  but  smil- 
ing. Does  she  smile  in  mockery  or  forgive- 
ness ?  I  could  rather  bear  a  frown  than  that 
terrible — that  frozen  smile.  O  God  !  she  is 
coming  to  me,  mother,  she  is  coming  to  me — 
she  will  lay  her  cold  hand  upon  me.  Ko — it 
is  not  she  !  it  is  Moll — look,  mother,  it  is  Moll, 
all  blackened  with  smoke  and  seared  with  living 
fire.  O  God!  how  terrible!  But,  mother,  I 
did  not  do  that.  When  I  saw  the  flames  afar 
off,  I  shuddered,  for  1  knew  how  it  must  be.  But 
I  did  not  do  it,  Moll,  by  my  lost  soul,  I  did  not !" 
He  started  to  his  feet  with  a  convulsive  effort. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  235 

The  hot  blood  spurted  from  liis  Avouiid  with  the 
exertion  and  spattered  upon  the  face  and  breast 
of  his  mother— but  she  felt  it  not,  for  she  was 
dead.  Tlie  last  glimmering  ray  of  reason  seemed 
to  drive  away  the  phantoms.  He  turned  toward 
those  sharp  and  withered  features,  he  saw  the 
fallen  jaw  and  lustreless  glazed  eye.  A  shudder 
shook  his  frame  at  every  point,  and  with  a  groan 
of  pain  and  terror,  lie  fell  forward  upon  the 
corpse — a  corpse  himself. 


286  FORT    LAJAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XXni. 

The  Federal  troops,  with  successive  cliarges, 
had  now  pushed  the  enemy  from  their  first  posi- 
tion, and  the  torn  battalions  were  still  being 
hurled  asiainst  the  batteries  that  swept  their 
ranks.  The  excellent  generalship  of  the  Confe- 
derate leaders  availed  itself  of  the  valor  and 
impetuosity  of  their  assailants  to  lure  them,  by 
consecutive  advance  and  backward  movement, 
into  the  deadly  range  of  their  well  planted  guns. 
It  was  then  that,  far  to  the  riglit,  a  heavy  column 
could  be  seen  moving  rapidly  in  the  rear  of  the 
contending  hosts.  Was  it  a  part  of  Hunter's 
division  that  had  turned  the  enemy's  rear  ? 
Such  was  the  thouglit  at  first,  and  with  the 
delusion  triumphant  cheers  rang  from  the  parched 
throats  of  the  weary  Federals.  They  were  soon 
to  be  undeceived.  The  stars  and  bars  flaunted 
amid  those  advancing  ranks,  and  the  constant 
yells  of  the  Confederates  proclaimed  the  truth. 
Johnston  was  pouring  his  fresh  troops  upon  the 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  237 

battle-field.  The  field  was  lost,  but  still  was 
struggled  for  in  the  faco  of  hope.  It  was  now 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  soldiers,  exhausted 
with  their  desperate  exertions,  fought  on,  dog- 
gedly, but  without  that  fiery  spirit  which  earlier 
in  the  day  had  urged  them  to  the  cannon's 
mouth.  There  was  a  lull  in  the  storm  of  car- 
nage, the  brief  pause  that  precedes  the  last 
terrific  fury  of  the  tempest.  Tlie  Confederates 
were  concentrating  their  energies  for  a  decisive 
effort.  It  came.  From  the  woods  that  skirted 
the  left  centre  of  their  position,  a  squadron  of 
horsemen  came  thundering  down  uj)on  our 
columns.  Right  down  upon  Carlisle's  battery 
they  rode,  slashing  the  cannoneers  and  capturing 
the  guns.  Then  followed  their  rushing  ranks 
of  infantry,  and  full  upon  our  flank  swooped 
down  another  troop  of  cavalry,  dashing  into  the 
road  wliere  the  baggage-train  had  been  incau- 
tiously advanced.  Our  tired  and  broken  regi- 
ments were  scattered  to  the  right  and  left.  In 
vain  a  few  devoted  ofiicers  spurred  among  them, 
and  called  on  them  to  lally;  they  broke  from 
the  ranks  in  every  quarter  of  the  field,  and 
rushed  madly  up  the  hillsides  and  into  the  shel- 


238  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

ter  of  the  trees.  The  magnificent  army  tliat  liad 
hailed  the  rising  sun  with  hopes  of  victory  was 
soon  pouring  along  the  road  in  inextricable  con- 
fusion and  disorderly  retreat.  Foot  soldier  and 
horseman,  field -piece  and  wagon,  caisson  and 
ambulance,  teamster  and  cannoneer,  all  were 
mingled  together  and  rushing  backward  from 
the  field  they  had  half  won,  with  their  backs  to 
the  pursuing  foe.  That  rout  has  been  traced, 
to  our  shame,  in  history ;  the  pen  of  the  novel- 
ist shuns  the  disgraceful  theme. 

Harold,  although  faint  with  loss  of  blood, 
which  oozed  from  a  flesh-wound  in  his  shoulder, 
was  among  the  gallant  few  who  strove  to  stem 
the  ebbing  current;  struck  at  last  by  a  spent 
ball  in  the  temple,  he  fell  senseless  to  lie 
ground.  He  would  have  been  trampled  upon 
and  crushed  by  the  retreating  column,  had  not  a 
friendly  hand  dragged  him  from  the  road  to  a 
little  mound  over  which  spread  the  branches  of 
an  oak.  Here  he  was  found  an  hour  afterward 
by  a  body  of  Confederate  troops  and  lifted  into 
an  ambulance  with  others  wounded  and  bleed- 
ing like  himself. 

While  the  vehicle,  with  its  melancholy  freight. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  239 

was  being  slowly  trailed  over  the  scene  of  the 
late  battle,  Harold  partially  recovered  his  be- 
numbed senses.      He  lay  there  as  in  a  dream, 
striving  to  recall  himself  to  consciousness  of  his 
position.     He  felt  the  dull  throbbing  pain  upon 
his  brow  and  the  stinging  sensation  in  his  shoul- 
der, and  knew  that  he  was  wounded,  but  whe- 
ther dangerously   or  not  he   could  not  judge. 
He  could  feel  the  trickling  of  blood  from  the 
bosom  of  a  wounded  comrade  at  his  side,  and 
could  hear  the  groans  of  another  whose  thigh 
was  shattered  by  the  fragment  of  a  shell ;   but 
the  situation  brought  no  feeling  of  repugnance, 
for  he  was  yet  half  stunned  and  lay  as  in  a 
lethargy,  wishing  only  to  drain  one  draught  of 
water  and  then  to  sleep.     The  monotonous  rum- 
bling of  the  ambulance  wheels  sounded  distinctly 
upon  his  ear,  and  he  could  listen,  with  a  kind  of 
objectless  curiosity,  to  the  casual  conversation 
of  the  driver,  as  he  exchanged  words  here  and 
there  with  others,  who  were  returning  upon  the 
same  dismal  errand  from  the  scene  of  carnage. 
The  shadows  of  night  spread  around  him,  cover- 
ing the  field  of  battle  like  a  pall  flung  in  charity 
by  nature  over  the  corpses  of  the  slain.     Tlien 


240  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

his  bewildered  fancies  darkened  with  the  sur- 
rounding gloom,  and  he  thought  that  he  was 
coffined  and  in  a  hearse,  being  dragged  to  the 
graveyard  to  be  buried.  He  put  forth  his  hand 
to  push  the  coffin  lid,  but  it  fell  again  with 
weakness,  and  when  his  fingers  came  in  contact 
with  the  splintered  bone  that  protruded  from 
his  neighbor's  thigh,  and  he  felt  the  warm  gush- 
ing of  the  blood  that  welled  with  each  throb  of 
the  hastily  bound  artery,  he  puzzled  his  dreamy 
thoughts  to  know  what  it  might  mean.  At  last 
all  became  a  blank  upon  his  brain,  and  he 
relapsed  once  more  into  unconsciousness. 

And  so,  from  dreamy  wakefulness  to  total 
oblivion  he  passed  to  and  fro,  without  an  inter- 
val to  part  the  real  from  the  unreal.  He  was 
conscious  of  being  lifted  into  the  arms  of  men, 
and  being  borne  along  carefully  by  strong  arms. 
Whither?  It  seemed  to  his  dull  senses  that  they 
were  bearing  him  into  a  sepulchre,  but  he  was 
not  terrified,  but  careless  and  resigned  ;  or  if  he 
thought  of  it  at  all,  it  was  to  rejoice  that  w^hen 
laid  there,  he  should  be  undisturbed.  Presently 
a  vague  fancy  passed  athwart  his  mind,  that  per- 
haps the  crawling  worms  would  annoy  him,  and 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION  241 

lie  felt  uneasy,  but  yet  not  afraid.  Aftenvard, 
there  was  a  sensation  of  quiet  and  relief,  and  his 
brain,  for  a  space,  was  in  repose.  Then  a  bright 
form  bent  over  him,  and  he  thought  it  was  an 
angel.  He  could  feel  a  soft  hand  brushing  the 
dampness  from  his  brow,  and  fingers,  whose  light 
touch  soothed  him,  parting  his  clotted  hair. 
The  features  grew  more  distinct,  and  it  pleased 
him  to  look  upon  them,  although  he  strove  in 
vain  to  ^x  them  in  his  memory,  until  a  tear-drop 
fell  upon  his  cheek,  and  recalled  his  wandering 
senses  ;  then  he  knew  that  Oriana  was  bending 
over  him  and  weeping. 

He  was  in  the  cottage  where  Beverly  had  last 
parted  from  his  sister ;  not  in  the  same  room, 
for  they  feared  to  place  him  there,  where 
Miranda  was  lying  in  a  shroud,  with  a  coffin 
by  her  bed-side,  lest  the  sad  spectacle  should 
disturb  him  when  he  woke.  But  he  lay  upon  a 
comfortable  bed  in  another  room,  and  Beverly 
and  Oriana  stood  beside,  while  the  surgeon 
dressed  his  wounds. 


11 


242  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEE  XXIY. 

No  need  to  say  that  Harold  was  well  cared 
for  by  his  two  friendly  foes.  Beverly  had  given 
his  personal  parole  for  his  safe  keeping,  and  he 
was  therefore  free  from  all  surveillance  or  annoy- 
ance on  that  score.  His  wounds  were  not  seri- 
ous, although  the  contusion  on  the  temple, 
which,  however,  had  left  the  skull  uninjured, 
occasioned  some  uneasiness  at  first.  But  the 
third  day  he  was  able  to  leave  his  bed,  and  with 
his  arm  in  a  sling,  sat  comfortably  in  an  easy- 
chair,  and  conversed  freely  with  his  two  excel- 
lent nurses. 

"  Did  Beverly  tell  you  of  Arthur's  imprison- 
ment ?"  he  asked  of  Oriana,  breaking  a  pause  in 
the  general  conversation. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  looking  down,  with  a 
scarcely  perceptible  blush  upon  her  cheek. 
"  Poor  Arthur !  Yours  is  a  cruel  government, 
Harold,  that  would  make  traitors  of  such  men. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  243 

His  noble  heart  would  not  harbor  a  dangerous 
thought,  much  less  a  traitorous  design." 

''  I  think  with  you,"  said  Harold.  "  There  is 
some  strange  mistake,  which  we  must  fathom. 
I  received  his  letter  only  the  day  preceding  the 
battle.  Had  there  been  no  immediate  prospect 
of  an  engagement,  I  would  have  asked  a  fur- 
lough, and  have  answered  it  in  person.  I  have 
small  reason  to  regret  my  own  imprisonment,"  he 
added,  "  my  jailers  are  so  kind  ;  yet  I  do  regret 
it  for  his  sake." 

"  You  know  that  we  are  powerless  to  help 
him,"  said  Beverly,  "or  even  to  shorten  your 
captivity,  since  your  government  will  not  ex- 
change witli  us.  However,  you  must  write, 
both  to  Arthur  and  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  I  will 
use  my  best  interest  with  the  general  to  have 
your  letters  sent  on  with  a  flag." 

"  I  know  that  you  will  do  all  in  your  power, 
and  I  trust  that  my  representations  may  avail 
witli  the  government,  for  I  judge  from  Arthur's 
letter  that  he  is  not  well,  although  he  makes  no 
complaint.  He  is  but  delicate  at  the  best,  and 
what  with  the  effects  of  his  late  injuries,  I  fear 
that  the  restraint  of  a  prison  may  go  ill  with  him." 


244  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  How  unnatural  is  this  strife  that  makes  us 
sorrow  for  our  foes  no  less  than  for  our  friends  ?" 
said  Oriana.  "  I  seem  to  be  living  in  a  strange 
clime,  and  in  an  age  that  has  passed  awaj.  And 
how  long  can  friendship  endure  this  fiery- 
ordeal  ?  How  many  scenes  of  carnage  like  this 
last  terrible  one  can  afflict  the  land,  witliout  wip- 
ing away  all  trace  of  brotherhood,  and  leaving  in 
the  void  the  seed  of  deadly  hate  ?" 

"  If  this  repulse,"  said  Beverly,  "  which  your 
arms  have  suffered  so  early  in  the  contest,  will 
awaken  the  l^orth  to  a  sense  of  the  utter  futility 
of  their  design  of  subjugation,  the  blood  that 
flowed  at  Manassas  will  not  have  been  shed  in 
vain." 

"  ^o,  not  in  vain,"  replied  Harold,  "  but  its 
fruits  will  be  other  than  you  anticipate.  The 
l^orth  will  be  awakened,  but  only  to  gird  up  its 
loins  and  put  forth  its  giant  strength.  The 
shame  of  that  one  defeat  will  be  worth  to  us 
hereafter  a  hundred  victories.  The  Korth  has 
has  been  smitten  in  its  sleep  ;  it  will  arouse  from 
its  lethargy  like  a  lion  awakening  under  the 
smart  of  the  hunter's  spear.  Beverly,  base  no 
vain  hopes  upon  the  triumph  of  the  hour ;  it 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  v45 

seals  your  doom,  for  it  serves  but  to  throw  into 
the  scale  against  you  the  aroused  energies  that 
till  now  have  been  withheld." 

"  You  count  upon  your  resources,  Harold,  like 
a  purse-proud  millionaire,  who  boasts  his  burst- 
ing coffers.  AYe  depend  rather  upon  our  deter- 
mined hearts  and  resolute  right  hands.  Upon 
our  power  to  endure,  greater  than  yours  to 
inflict,  reverse.  Upon  our  united  people,  and 
the  spirit  that  animates  them,  which  can  never 
be  subdued.  The  naked  Britons  could  defend  their 
native  soil  against  Caesar's  legions,  the  veterans 
of  a  hundred  fights.  Shall  we  do  less,  who  have 
already  tasted  the  fruits  of  liberty  so  dearly 
earned  ?  Harold,  your  people  have  assumed  an 
impossible  task,  and  you  ma^  as  well  go  cast 
your  treasures  into  the  sea  as  squander  them  in 
arms  to  smite  your  kith  and  kin.  We  are 
Americans,  like  yourselves ;  and  when  you  con- 
fess that  you  can  be  conquered  by  invading 
armies,  then  dream  of  conquering  us." 

"  And  we  will  startle  you  from  your  dream 
with  the  crack  of  our  Southern  rifles,"  added 
Oriana,  somewhat  maliciously,  while  Harold 
smiled  at  her  enthusiasm. 


216  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

^'  There  is  a  great  deal  of  romance  in  both 
jour  natures,"  he  rej)lied.  "But  it  is  not  so 
good  as  powder  for  a  fighting  medium.  The 
spirit  yon  boast  of  will  not  support  you  long 
without  the  aid  of  good  round  dollars." 

"  Thank  heaven  we  have  less  faith  in  their 
efficacy  than  you  Northern  gold-worshippers," 
observed  Oriana,  with  playful  sarcasm.  "While 
our  soldiers  have  good  round  corn-cakes,  they 
will  ask  for  no  richer  metals  than  lead  and 
steel.  Have  you  never  heard  of  the  regi- 
ment of  Mississippians,  who,  liaving  received 
their  pay  in  government  certificates,  to  a  man 
tore  up  the  documents  as  they  took  up  the 
line  of  march,  saying  'we  do  not  fight  for 
money  V  "  • 

Harold  smiled,  thinking  perhaps  that  nothing 
better  could  have  been  done  with  the  currency 
in  question. 

"  I  think,"  said  Beverly,  "  you  are  far  out  of 
the  way  in  your  estimate  of  our  resources.  The 
South  is  strictly  an  agricultural  country,  and  as 
such,  best  able  to  support  itself  under  the  ex- 
haustion consequent  upon  a  lengthened  warfare, 
esj^ecially  as  it  will  remain  in  the  attitude  of  re- 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  247 

sistance  to  invasion.  From  the  bosom  of  its  pro- 
lific soil  it  can  draw  its  natural  nourisliment  and 
retain  its  vigor  throiigliout  any  period  of  isolation, 
while  you  are  draining  your  resources  for  the 
means  of  providing  an  active  aggressive  warfare. 
The  rallying  of  our  white  population  to  the  battle 
field  will  not  interrupt  the  course  of  agricultural 
pursuit,  while  every  enlistment  in  the  North  will 
take  one  man  away  from  the  tillage  of  the  land 
or  from  some  industrial  avocation." 

"  Kot  so,"  replied  Harold.  "  Our  armies  for 
the  most  part  will  be  recruited  from  the  surplus 
population,  and  abundant  hands  will  remain 
behind  for  the  purposes  of  industry." 

"  At  first,  perhaps.  But  not  after  a  few  more 
such  fields  as  were  fought  on  Sunday  last.  To 
carry  out  even  a  show  of  your  project  of  subju- 
gation, you  must  keep  a  million  of  men  in  the 
field  from  year  to  year.  Your  manufacturing 
interests  will  be  paralyzed,  your  best  customers 
shut  out.  You  will  be  spending  enormously  and 
producing  little  beyond  the  necessities  of  con- 
sumption. We,  on  the  contrary,  will  be  pro- 
ducing as  usual,  and  spending  little  more  than 
before." 


248  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  Can  jour  armies  be  fed,  clotlied,  and 
equipped  Avitliout  expense  ?" 

"  'No.  But  all  our  means  will  be  ap2:)lied  to 
military  uses,  and  our  operations  will  be  neces- 
sarily mucli  less  expensive  tlian  yours.  In  other 
matters,  we  will  forget  our  habits  of  extrr.va- 
gance.  We  will  become,  by  the  law  of  necessity, 
economists  in  place  of  spendthrifts.  We  will 
gather  in  rich  harvests,  but  will  stint  ourselves 
to  the  bare  necessities  of  life,  that  our  troops 
anay  be  fed  and  clothed.  Tlie  money  that  our 
wealthy  planters  have  been  in  the  liabit  of 
spending  yearly  in  jSTorthern  cities  and  vratering 
places,  will  be  circulated  at  home.  Some  fifty 
millions  of  Southern  dollars,  heretofore  annually 
wasted  in  fashionable  dissipation,  will  thus  be 
kept  in  our  own  pockets  and  out  of  yours.  The 
spendthrift  sons  of  our  planters,  and  their  yet 
more  extravagant  daugliters,  will  be  found 
studying  economy  in  the  rude  school  of  the 
soldier,  and  plying  the  needle  to  supply  tlie 
soldiers'  wants,  in  place  of  drawing  upon  the 
paternal  estates  for  frivolous  enjoyments.  Our 
spending  population  will  be  on  the  battle-field, 
and  the  laborer  will  remain  in  tiie  cotton  and 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  249 

corn-field.  There  will  be  snfFering  and  priva- 
tion, it  is  true,  but  rest  assured,  Harold,  we  will 
bear  it  all  without  a  murmur,  as  our  fathers  did 
in  the  days  of  '76.  And  we  will  trust  to  the 
good  old  soil  we  are  defending  to  give  us  our 
daily  bread." 

"  Or  if  it  should  not,"  said  Oriana,  "  we  can  at 
least  claim  from  it,  each  one,  a  grave,  over  which 
the  foot  of  the  invader  may  trample,  but  not  over 
our  living  bodies." 

''I  have  no  power  to  convince  you  of  your 
error,"  answered  Harold.  "  Let  us  speak  of  it 
no  more,  since  it  is  destined  that  the  sword  must 
decide  between  us.  Beverly,  you  promised  that 
I  should  go  visit  my  wounded  comrade's,  who 
have  not  yet  been  removed.  Shall  we  go  now  ? 
I  think  it  would  do  me  good  to  breathe  the 
air." 

They  prepared  for  the  charitable  errand,  and 
Oriana  went  with  them,  with  a  little  basket  of 
delicacies  for  the  suffering  prisoners. 


ir 


250  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

It  was  a  fair  morning  in  August,  the  twentieth 
day  after  the  eventful  21st  of  July.  Beverly  was 
busy  with  his  military  duties,  and  Harold,  who 
had  already  fully  recovered  from  his  wounds, 
was  enjoying,  in  company  with  Oriana,  a  plea- 
sant canter  over  the  neighboring  country.  They 
came  to  where  the  rolling  meadow  subsided  into 
a  level  plain  of  considerable  extent  on  either  side 
of  the  road.  At  its  verge  a  thick  forest  formed 
a  dark  background,  beyond  which  the  peering 
summits  of  green  hills  showed  that  the  land- 
scape was  rugged  and  uneven.  Oriana  slack- 
ened her  pace,  and  pointed  out  over  the  broad 
expanse  of  level  country. 

"  You  see  this  plain  that  stretches  to  our  right 
and  left?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  replied  Harold. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  want  you  to  mark  it  well,"  she 
continued,  with  a  significant  glance;  "and  also 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  251 

that  stretch  of  woodland  yonder,  beyond  which, 
you  see,  the  country  rises  again." 

"  Yes,  a  wild  country,  I  should  judge,  like  that 
to  the  left,  wdiere  we  fought  your  batteries  a 
month  ago." 

"It  is,  indeed,  a  wild  country  as  you  say. 
There  are  ravines  there,  and  deep  glens,  fringed 
with  almost  impenetrable  shrubbery,  and  deep 
down  in  these  recesses  flows  many  a  winding 
water-course,  lined  and  overarched  with  twisted 
foliage.  Are  you  skillful  at  threading  a  wood- 
land labyrinth  ?" 

^' Yes;  my  surveying  expeditions  have  schooled 
me  pretty  well.  Why  do  you  ask  ?  Do  you 
want  me  to  guide  you  through  the  wilderness,  in 
search  of  a  hermit's  cave." 

"Perhaps;  women  have  all  manner  of  ca- 
prices, you  know.  But  I  want  you  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  those  landmarks.  Over  yonder,  there  are 
some  nooks  that  would  do  well  to  hide  a  run- 
away. I  have  explored  some  of  them  myself,  for 
I  passed  some  months  here  formerly,  before  the 
war.  Poor  Miranda's  family  resided  once  in  the 
little  cottage  where  we  are  stopping  now.  That 
is  why  I  came  from  Richmond  to  spend  a  few 


252  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

days  and  be  with  Beverly.  I  little  tliouglit  tliat 
my  coming  would  bring  me  to  Miranda's  deatli- 
bed.  Look  there,  now :  yon  have  a  better  view 
of  where  the  forest  ascends  into  the  hilly 
ground." 

"  Why  are  you  so  topographical  to-day  ?  One 
would  think  you  were  tempting  me  to  run 
away,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  as  he  followed  her 
pointing  finger  with  his  eyes. 

"  Xo  ;  I  know  you  would  not  do  that,  because 
Beverly,  you  know,  has  pledged  himself  for  your 
safe-keeping. 

"  Yery  true ;  and  I  am  therefore  a  closer  pris- 
oner than  if  I  were  loaded  down  with  chains. 
When  do  you  return  to  Bichmond  ?" 

"I  shall  return  on  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Beverly  has  been  charged  with  an  important 
service,  and  will  be  absent  for  several  weeks. 
But  he  can  procure  your  parole,  if  you  wish,  and 
you  can  come  to  the  old  manor-house  again." 

"I  think  I  shall  not  accept  parole,"  replied 
Harold,  thoughtfully.  "I  must  escape,  if  possi- 
ble, for  Arthur's  sake.  Beverly,  of  course,  will 
release  himself  from  all  obligations  about  me, 
before  he  goes  ?" 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  253 

^Yes,  to-moiTow;  but  you  will  be  strictly 
guarded,  unless  you  give  parole.  See  here,  I 
have  a  little  present  for  you;  it  is  not  very 
pretty,  but  it  is  useful. " 

She  handed  him  a  small  pocket-compass,  set 
in  a  brass  case. 

''  You  can  have  this  too,"  she  added,  drawing 
a  small  but  strong  and  sharp  poignard  from  her 
bosom.  "But  you  must  promise  me  never  to 
use  it  except  to  save  your  life  ?" 

"  I  will  promise  that  cheerfully,"  said  Harold, 
as  he  received  the  precious  gifts. 

"  To-morrow  we  will  ride  out  again.  We  will 
have  the  same  horses  that  bear  us  so  bravely 
now.  Do  you  note  how  strong  and  well-bred  is 
the  noble  animal  you  ride  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Harold,  patting  the  glorious  arch 
of  his  steed's  neck.  "  He's  a  fine  fellow,  and 
fleet,  I  warrant." 

"Fleet  as  the  winds.  Tliere  are  few  in  this 
neighborhood  that  can  match  him.  Let  us  go 
home  now.  You  need  not  tell  Beverly  that  I 
have  given  you  presents.  And  be  ready  to  ride 
to-morrow  at  four  o'clock  j)recisely." 

He  understood  her  thorou2:hly,  and  they  can- 


254:  FORT    LIFAYETTE;    OR, 

tered  homeward,  conversing  upon  indifferent 
subjects  and  reverting  no  further  to  their  pre- 
vious somewhat  enigmatical  theme. 

On  the  following  afternoon,  at  four  o'clock 
precisely,  the  horses  were  at  the  door,  and  five 
minutes  afterward  a  mounted  officer,  followed  by- 
two  troopers,  galloped  up  the  lane  and  drew  rein 
at  the  gateway. 

Harold  was  arranging  the  girths  of  Oriana's 
saddle,  and  she  herself  was  standing  in  her  rid- 
ing-habit beside  the  porch.  The  officer,  dis- 
mounting, approached  her  and  raised  his  cap  in 
respectful  salute.  He  was  young  and  well- 
looking,  evidently  one  accustomed  to  polite 
society. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Captain  Haralson,"  said 
Oriana,  with  her  most  gracious  smile.  "  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you,  although,  as  you  bring 
your  military  escort,  I  presume  you  come  to  see 
Beverly  upon  business,  and  not  for  the  friendly 
visit  you  promised  me.  But  Beverly  is  not 
here." 

"  I  left  him  at  the  camp  on  duty,  Miss 
Weems,"  replied  the  captain.  "It  is  my  mis- 
fortune that  mv  own  duties  have  been  too  strict 


LOVE    AND    SECESSIOX.  255 

of  late  to  permit  me  the  pleasure  of  my  contem- 
plated visit." 

''  I  must  bide  my  time,  captain.  Let  me 
introduce  my  friend,  Captain  Hare,  our  prisoner, 
Mr.  Haralson  ;  but  I  know  you  will  help  me  to 
make  him  forget  it,  when  I  tell  you  that  he  was 
my  brother's  schoolmate  and  is  our  old  and  val- 
ued friend;" 

The  young  officer  took  Harold  frankly  by  the 
hand,  but  he  looked  grave  and  somewhat  discon- 
certed as  he  answered : 

"  Captain  Hare,  as  a  soldier,  will  forgive  me 
that  my  duty  compels  me  to  play  a  most  ungra- 
cious part  upon  our  first  acquaintance.  I  have 
orders  to  return  with  him  to  headquarters,  where 
I  trust  his  acceptance  of  parole  will  enable  me 
to  avail  myself  of  your  introduction  to  show 
him  what  courtesy  our  camp  life  admits,  in  atone- 
ment for  the  execution  of  my  present  unpleasant 

devoir." 

"  I  shall  esteem  your  acquaintance  the 
more  highly,"  answered  Harold,  "that  you 
know  so  well  to  blend  your  soldiersliip  with 
kindness.  I  am  entirely  at  your  disposition, 
sir,  having    only   to   apologize  to  Miss  Weems 


256  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

for  the  deprivation  of  her  contemplated 
ride." 

''  Oil,  no,  we  must  not  lose  our  ride,"  said 
Oriana.  "  It  is  perhaps  the  last  we  shall  enjoy 
together,  and  such  a  lovely  afternoon.  I  am 
sure  that  Captain  Haralson  is  too  gallant  to 
interrupt  our  excursion." 

She  turned  to  him  with  an  arch  smile,  but  he 
looked  serious  as  he  replied  : 

"  Alas !  Miss  Weems,  our  gallantry  receives 
some  rude  rebuffs  in  the  harsh  school  of  the  sol- 
dier. It  grieves  me  to  mar  your  harmless  recre- 
ation, but  even  that  mortilication  I  must  endure 
when  it  comes  in  the  strict  line  of  my  duty." 

"  But  your  duty  does  not  forbid  you  to  take  a 
canter  with  us  this  charmins^  afternoon.  ITow 
put  away  tliat  mihtary  sternness,  which  does  not 
become  you  at  all,  and  help  me  to  mount  my 
pretty  l^elly,  who  is  getting  impatient  to  be  off. 
And  so  am  I.  Come,  you  will  get  into  camp  in 
due  season,  for  we  will  go  only  as  far  as  the 
Run,  and  canter  all  the  way." 

She  took  his  arm,  and  he  assisted  her  to  the 
saddle,  won  into  acquiescence  by  her  graceful 
obstinacy,   and,  in  fact,  seeing  but  little  harm 


LOVE    ANT)    SECESSIOX.  257 

ill  the  slight  departiu'e  from  tlie  strict  perform- 
ance of  his  errand.  Tliey  mounted  and  rode  out 
together,  Oriana  leading  the  way,  and  choosing 
the  path  they  had  followed  on  the  preceding 
day. 

"  Keep  ns  within  sight,  but  you  need  not  press 
too  closely  upon  us,"  said  Captain  Haralson  to 
the  two  troopers  as  he  passed.  The  men  fol- 
lowed the  cavalcade,  riding  far  enough  in  the 
background  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  being 
an  armed  escort. 

The  afternoon  was  truly  delightful,  and  the 
polite  young  Southron,  too  much  an  admirer  of 
beauty  to  fail  of  appreciating  the  opportunity  of 
caracolling  by  the  side  of  so  charming  a  horse- 
woman as  Oriana,  soon  lost  all  sense  of  uneasi- 
ness in  the  pleasure  he  derived  from  her  com- 
pany and  conversation.  Harold  at  first  was 
taciturn,  but  his  reserve  soon  gave  way  before 
the  inevitable  exhilaration  produced  by  the  com- 
bined influences  of  bracing  air,  exercise,  good 
company,  and  lovely  scenery. 

"  Do  you  think  we  will  let  you  ISTortlierners 
drive  us  from  such  scenery  as  tliat  ?"  said  Oriana, 
good  naturedly,  pointing  witii  her  whip  to  where 


258  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

the  tufted  hills  rolled  into  one  another  like  the 
waves  of  a  swelling  sea,  their  crests  tipped  with 
the  slant  rays  of  the  descending  sun,  and  their 
graceful  slopes  alternating  among  pm-ple  sha- 
dows and  gleams  of  floating  light. 

"  It  is  indeed  so  beautiful,"  answered  Harold, 
^'  that  I  should  deem  you  might  be  content  to 
live  there  as  of  old,  without  inviting  the  terrible 
companionship  of  Mars." 

"  We  do  not  invite  it,"  said  the  young  captain. 
*•  Leave  us  in  peaceful  possession  of  our  own, 
and  no  war  cries  shall  echo  among  those  hills. 
If  Mars  has  driven  his  chariot  into  our  homes, 
he  comes  at  your  bidding,  an  unwelcome 
intruder,  to  be  scourged  back  again." 

"  At  our  bidding  !  Xo.  The  first  gun  that 
was  fired  at  Sumter  summoned  him,  and  if  he 
should  leave  his  foot-prints  deep  in  your  soil, 
you  have  well  earned  the  penalty." 

"  It  will  cost  you,  to  inflict  it,  many  such 
another  day's  work  as  that  at  Manassas  a  month 
ago." 

The  taunt  was  spoken  hastily,  and  the  young 
Southron  colored  as  if  ashamed  of  his  discour- 
tesv,  and  added : 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  259 

"  Forgive  me  my  ungracious  speech.  It  was  my 
first  field,  sir,  and  I  am  wont  to  speak  of  it  too 
boastingly.  I  shall  become  more  modest,  I  hope, 
when  I  shall  have  abetter  riglit  to  be  a  boaster." 

"  Oh,"  replied  Harold,  "  I  admit  the  sliame  of 
our  discomfiture,  and  take  it  as  a  good  lesson  to 
our  negligence  and  want  of  purpose.  But  all 
tliat  has  passed  ^way.  One  good  whipping  has 
awakened  us  to  an  understanding  of  the  work 
we  have  in  hand.  Henceforth  we  will  apply 
ourselves  to  the  task  in  earnest." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  your  gf)vernment  will 
prosecute  the  war  more  vigorously  than  before  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly.  You  have  heard  but  the  pre- 
lude of  a  gale  that  shall  sweep  every  vestige  of 
treason  from  the  land." 

"  Let  it  blow  on,"  said  the  Southron,  proudly. 
"  There  will  be  counter-blasts  to  meet  it.  You 
cannot  raise  a  tempest  that  will  make  us  bow 
our  heads." 

"  Do  you  not  think,"  interrupted  Oriana, 
"that  a  large  proportion  of  your  ]N"orthern  popu- 
lation are  ready  at  least  to  listen  to  terms  of 
separation  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Harold,  firmly.    "  Or  if  there  be 


260  FORT    LAi\iYETTE;    OR, 

any  wlio  entertain  sucli  tliouglits,  we  will  make 
them  outcasts  among  us,  and  the  finger  of  scorn 
^-ill  be  pointed  at  them  as  recreant  to  their 
holiest  duty." 

"  Tnat  is  hardly  fair,"  said  Oriana.  "  Why 
should  you  scorn  or  maltreat  those  who  honestly 
believe  that  the  doctrine  in  support  of  which  so 
many  are  ready  to  stake  their  lives  and  their 
fortunes,  may  be  worthy  of  consideration  i  Do 
you  believe  us  all  mad  and  wicked  people  in 
the  South — people  without  hearts,  and  without 
brains,  incapalile  of  forming  an  opinion  that  is 
worth  an  arofument  ?  If  there  are  some  amons: 
you  who  think  we  are  acting  for  the  best,  and 
Heaven  knows  we  are  acting  with  sincerity,  you 
should  give  them  at  least  a  hearing,  for  the 
sake  of  liberty  of  conscience.  Remember,  there 
are  millions  of  us  united  in  sentiment  in  the 
South,  and  millions,  perhaps,  abroad  who  think 
with  us.  How  can  you  decide  by  your  mere 
impulses  where  the  i-ight  lies  ?" 

''  TTe  decide  by  the  promptings  of  our  loyal 
hearts,  and  by  our  reason,  which  tells  us  that 
secession  is  treason,  and  that  treason  must  be 
crushed." 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  261 

"  Heart  and  brain  have  been  mistaken  ere 
now,"  returned  Oriana.  "  But  if  you  are  a  type 
of  your  countrymen,  I  see  that  hard  blows  alone 
will  teach  you  that  God  has  given  us  the  right 
to  think  for  ourselves." 

"  Do  you  believe,  then,"  asked  Haralson,  "  that 
there  can  be  no  peace  between  us  until  one  side 
or  the  other  shall  be  exhausted  and  subdued  ?" 

"l^ot  so,"  replied  Harold.  "I  think  that 
when  we  have  retrieved  the  disgrace  of  Bull 
Run  and  given  you  in  addition,  some  whole- 
some chastisement,  your  better  judgment 
will  return  to  you,  and  you  will  accept  for- 
giveness at  our  hands  and  return  to  your  alle- 
giance." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  Southron. 
"  Even  were  we  ready  to  accept  your  terms, 
you  would  not  be  ready  to  grant  them.  Should 
the  IN'orth  succeed  in  striking  some  heavy  blow  at 
the  South,  I  will  tell  you  what  will  happen  ;  your 
abolitionists  will  seize  the  occasion  of  the  peo- 
ples' exultation  to  push  their  doctrine  to  a  con- 
summation. Whenever  you  shall  hear  the  tocsin 
of  victory  sounding  in  the  !N'orth,  then  listen  for 
the  echoing  cry  of  emancipation — for  you  will 


262  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

hear  it.  You  will  see  it  in  every  column  of 
your  daily  prints  ;  you  will  hear  your  statesmen 
urging  it  in  your  legislative  halls,  and  your 
cabinet  ministers  making  it  tlieir  theme.  And, 
most  dangerous  of  all,  you  will  hear  your  gene- 
rals and  colonels,  demagogues  at  heart,  and 
soldiers  only  of  occasion,  preaching  it  to  their 
battalions,  and  making  converts  of  their  subor- 
dinates by  the  mere  influences  of  their  rank  and 
calling.  And  when  your  military  chieftains 
harangue  their  soldiers  upon  political  themes, 
think  not  of  our  treason,  as  you  call  it,  but  look 
well  to  the  political  freedom  that  is  still  your 
own.  With  five  hundred  thonsand  armed  pup- 
pets, moving  at  the  will  of  a  clique  of  ambitious 
epauletted  politicians  and  experimentalists,  you 
may  live  to  witness,  whether  we  be  sub- 
dued or  not,  a  coup  d^etat  for  which  there 
is  a  precedent  not  far  back  in  the  annals  of 
republics." 

"Have  you  already  learned  to  contemplate 
the  danger  that  you  are  incurring?  Do  you  at 
last  fear  the  monster  that  you  have  nursed  and 
strengthened  in  your  midst  ?  Well,  if  your 
slaves    should    rise    against    you,    sm'ely    you 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  263 

cannot  blame  us  for  the  evil  of  your  own  crea- 
tion." 

"It  is  the  hope  of  your  abolitionists,  not  our 
fear,  that  I  am  rehearsing.  Should  your  armies 
obtain  a  foothold  on  our  soil,  we  know  that  you 
will  put  knives  and  guns  into  the  hands  of  our 
slaves,  and  incite  them  to  emulate  the  deeds  of 
their  race  in  San  Domingo.  You  will  parcel 
out  our  lands  and  wealth  to  your  victorious 
soldiery,  not  so  much  as  a  reward  for  their  past 
services,  but  to  seal  the  bond  between  them  and 
the  government  that  will  seek  to  rule  by  their 
bayonets.  You  see,  we  know  the  peril  and  are 
prepared  to  meet  it.  Should  you  conquer  us,  at 
the  same  time  you  would  conquer  the  liberties  of 
the  ^N'orthern  citizen.  You  will  be  at  the  mercy 
of  the  successful  general  whose  triumph  may 
make  him  the  idol  of  the  armed  millions  that 
alone  can  accomplish  our  subjugation.  In  the 
South,  butchery  and  rapine  by  hordes  of  des- 
perate negroes — in  the  l^orth  anarchy  and  polit- 
ical intrigue,  to  be  merged  into  dictatorship 
and  the  absolutism  of  military  power.  Such 
would  be  the  results  of  your  triumph  and  our 
defeat." 


264  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

'^Tliose  are  the  visions  of  a  heated  brain," 
said  Harold.  "  I  mnst  confess  that  your  fighting 
is  better  than  your  logic.  There  is  no  clanger  to 
our  country  that  the  loyalty  of  its  people  cannot 
overcome — as  it  will  vour  rebellion." 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  265 


CHAPTEE  XXYL 

They  bad  now  approached  the  edge  of  the 
plain  which  Oriana  had  ]3ointed  out  on  the  pre- 
ceding day.  The  sun,  which  had  been  tinging 
the  western  sky  with  gorgeous  hues,,  was  peering 
from  among  masses  of  pui-ple  and  golden  clouds, 
within  an  hour's  space  of  the  horizon.  Captain 
Haralson,  interested  and  excited  by  his  disputa- 
tion, had  been  riding  leisurely  along  by  the  side 
of  his  prisoner,  taking  but  little  note  of  the  route 
or  of  the  lapse  of  time. 

"  Cease  your  unprofitable  argument,"  cried 
Oriana,  "  and  let  us  have  a  race  over  this  beauti- 
ful plain.  Look !  'tis  as  smooth  as  a  race-course, 
and  I  will  lay  you  a  wager.  Captain  Haralson, 
that  my  Kelly  will  lead  you  to  yonder  clump,  by 
a  neck." 

She  touched  her  horse  lightly  with  the  whip, 
and  turned  from  the  road  into  the  meadows. 

"  It  is  late,  Miss  Weems,"  said  the  Southron, 
"  and  I  must  report  at  headquarters  before  sun- 
12 


^e  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

down.  Besides,  I  am  badly  mounted,  and  it 
would  be  but  a  sorry  victory  to  distance  me.  I 
pray  you,  let  us  return." 

''  Nonsense !  Nelly  is  not  breathed.  I  must 
liave  one  fair  run  over  this  field;  and,  gentle- 
men, I  challenge  you  both  to  outstrip  Nelly  if 
you  can." 

"With  a  merry  shout,  she  struck  the  fleet  mare 
smartly  on  the  flank,  and  the  spirited  animal, 
more  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  than  aroused  by 
the  whip-lash,  stretched  forward  her  neck  and 
sprang  over  the  tufted  level.  Harold  waved  his 
hand,  as  if  in  invitation,  to  his  companion,  and 
was  soon  urging  his  powerful  horse  in  the  same 
direction.  Haralson  shouted  to  them  to  stop, 
but  they  only  turned  their  heads  and  beckoned 
to  him  gaily,  and  plunging  the  spurs  into  the 
strong  but  heavy-hoofed  charger  that  he  rode,  he 
followed  them  as  best  he  could.  He  kept  close 
in  their  rear  very  well  at  first,  but  he  soon 
observed  that  he  was  losing  distance,  and  that 
the  two  swift  steeds  in  front,  that  had  been  held 
in  check  a  little  at  the  start,  were  now  skimming 
the  smooth  meadow  at  a  tremendous  pace. 

"  Halt !"  he  cried,  at  the  top  of  his  lungs ;  but 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION. 


267 


either  thej  heard  it  not  or  heeded  it  not,  for  they 
still  swept  on,  bending  low  forward  in  the  saddle, 
almost  side  bj  side. 

A  vagne  suspicion  crossed  his  mind. 

"Halt,  there!" 

Oriana  glanced  over  her  shoulder,  and  could 
see  a  sunraj  gleaming  from  something  that  he 
held  in  his  right  hand.  He  had  drawn  a  pistol 
from  his  holster.  She  slackened  her  pace  a  little, 
and  allowing  Harold  to  take  the  lead,  rode  on  in 
the  line  between  him  and  the  pursuer.  Harold 
turned  in  his  saddle.  She  could  hear  the  tones 
of  his  voice  rushing  past  her  on  the  wind. 

"Come  no  further  with  me,  lest  suspicion 
attach  to  yourself.  The  good  horse  will  bear  me 
beyond  pursuit.  Eemember,  it  is  for  Arthur's 
sake  I  have  consented  you  should  make  this 
sacrifice.     God  bless  you !  and  farewell !" 

A  pistol-shot  resounded  in  the  air.  Oriana 
knew  it  was  fired  but  to  intimidate — the  distance 
was  too  great  to  give  the  leaden  messenger  a 
deadlier  errand.  Yet  she  drew  rein,  and  waited, 
breathless  with  excitement  and  swift  motion,  till 
Haralson  came  np.  He  turned  one  reproachful 
glance  upon  her  as  he  passed,  and  spurred  on  in 


26S  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

pui-suit.  Harold  turned  once  again,  to  assure 
himself  that  she  was  unhurt,  then  waved  his 
hand,  and  urging  his  swift  steed  to  the  utmost, 
sped  on  toward  the  forest  which  was  now  close 
at  hand.  The  two  troopers  soon  came  galloping 
up  to  where  Oriana  still  sat  motionless  upon  her 
saddle,  watching  the  race  with  strained  eyes  and 
heaving  bosom. 

"  Your  prisoner  has  escaped,"  she  said ;  "  spur 
on  in  pursuit." 

She  knew  that  it  was  of  no  avail,  for  Harold 
had  already  disappeared  among  the  mazes  of  the 
wood,  and  the  sun  was  just  dipping  below  the 
horizon.  Darkness  would  soon  shroud  the  fugi- 
tive in  its  friendly  mantle.  She  turned  J^elly's 
head  homeward,  and  cantered  silently  away  in 
the  gathering  twilight. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  269 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 

When  Captain  Haralson  and  the  two  troopers 
reached  the  verge  of  the  forest,  they  could  trace 
for  a  short  distance  the  hoof-prints  of  Harold's 
horse,  and  followed  them  eagerly  among  the 
labyrinthine  paths  which  the  fugitive  had  made 
through  the  tangled  shrubbery  and  among  the 
briery  thickets.  But  soon  the  gloom  of  night 
closed  in  upon  them  in  the  depth  of  the  silent 
wood,  and  they  were  left  without  a  sign  by 
w^hich  to  direct  the  pursuit.  It  was  near  mid- 
night when  they  reached  the  fm-ther  edge  of  the 
forest,  and  there,  throwing  fantastic  gleams  of 
red  light  among  the  shadows  of  the  tall  trees, 
they  caught  sight  of  what  seemed  to  be  the 
glimmer  of  a  watchfire.  Soon  after,  the  growl 
of  a  hound  was  heard,  followed  by  a  deep- 
mouthed  bay,  and  approaching  cautiously,  they 
were  hailed  by  the  watchful  sentinel.  It  was  a 
Confederate  picket,  posted  on  the  outskirt  of  the 


270  ^ORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

forest,  and  Haralson,  making  himself  known, 
rode  np  to  where  the  party,  awakened  by  their 
approach,  had  roused  themselves  from  their 
blankets,  and  were  standing  with  ready  rifles 
beside  the  blazing  fagots. 

Haralson  made  known  his  errand  to  tlie  officer 
in  command,  and  the  sentries  were  questioned, 
but  all  declared  that  nothing  had  disturbed  their 
watch  ;  if  the  fugitive  had  passed  their  line,  he 
had  succeeded  in  eluding  their  vigilance. 

"  I  must  send  one  of  my  men  back  to  camp  to 
report  the  escape,"  said  Haralson,  "  and  will  ask 
you  to  spare  me  a  couple  of  your  fellows  to  help 
me  hunt  the  Yankee  down.  Confound  him,  I 
deserve  to  lose  my  epaulettes  for  my  folly,  but  I'll 
follow  him  to  the  Potomac,  rather  than  return  to 
headquarters  without  him." 

"  Who  was  it  ?"  asked  the  officer ;  "  was  he 
of  rank?" 

"  A  captain.  Captain  Hare,  well  named  for  his 
fleetness ;  but  he  was  mounted  superbly,  and  I 
suspect  the  whole  thing  was  cut  and  dried." 

"  Hare  ?"  cried  a  hoarse  voice ;  and  the 
speaker,  a  tall,  lank  man,  who  had  been 
stretched  bv  the  fire,  with  the  head  of  a  large, 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  271 

gaunt  bloodhound  in  his  lap,  rose  suddenly  and 
stepped  forward. 

"  Harold  Hare,  by  G— d  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I 
know  the  fellow.  Captain,  I'm  with  you  on  this 
hunt,  and  Bully  there,  too,  who  is  worth  the  pair 
of  us.     Hey,  Bully?" 

The  dog  stretched  himself  lazily,  and  lifted  his 
heavy  lip  with  a  grin  above  the  formidable  fangs 
that  glistened  in  the  gleam  of  the  watchfire. 

"  You  may  go,"  said  his  officer,  "  but  I  can't 
spare  another.  You  three,  with  the  dog,  will  be 
enough.  Rawbon's  as  good  a  man  as  you  can 
get,  captain.  Set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief,  and  a 
Yankee  to  outwit  a  Yankee.  You'd  better 
start  at  once,  unless  you  need  rest  or  refresh- 
ment." 

"  IS'othing,"  replied  Haralson.  "  Let  your 
man  put  something  into  his  haversack.  Good 
night,  lieutenant.  Come  along,  boys,  and  keep 
your  eyes  peeled,  for  these  Yankees  are  slippery 
eels,  you  know." 

Seth  Bawbon  had  already  bridled  his  horse 
that  was  grazing  hard  by,  and  the  party,  with 
the  hound  close  at  his  master's  side,  rode  forth 
upon  their  search. 


272  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEE  XXYin. 

Harold  bad  perceived  the  watcMre  an  houi 
earlier  than  his  pursuers,  having  obtained  thus 
much  the  advantage  of  them  bj  the  fleetness  of 
his  steed.  He  moved  well  off  to  the  right, 
riding  slowly  and  cautiously,  until  another  faint 
glimmer  in  that  direction  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  about  equi-distant  between 
two  pickets  of  the  enemy.  He  dismounted  at 
the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  securing  his  steed  to 
the  branch  of  a  tree,  crept  forward  a  few  paces 
beyond  the  shelter  of  the  wood,  and  looked 
about  earnestly  in  the  darkness.  ISTothing  could 
be  seen  but  the  long,  straggling  line  of  the  forest 
losing  itself  in  the  gloom,  and  the  black  outlines 
of  the  hills  before  him ;  but  his  quick  ear 
detected  the  sound  of  coming  hoof  and  the  ring- 
ing of  steel  scabbards.  A  patrol  was  approach- 
ing, and  fearful  that  his  horse,  conscious  of  the 
neighborhood  of  his  kind,  might  betray  his 
presence  with  a  sign  of  recognition,  he  hurried 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  273 

back,  and  standing  beside  tlie  animal,  caressed 
his  glossy  neck  and  won  Lis  attention  Avitli  the 
low  murniurs  of  his  voice.  The  good  steed 
remained  silent,  onlj  i)ricking  up  his  ears  and 
peering  through  the  branches  as  the  patrol  went 
clattering  by.  Harold  waited  till  the  trampling 
of  hoofs  died  away  in  the  distance,  and  judging, 
from  their  riding  on  without  a  challenge  or  a 
pause,  that  there  was  no  sentry  within  hail,  he 
mounted  and  rode  boldly  out  into  the  open 
country.  The  stars  were  mostly  obscured  by 
heavy  clouds,  but  here  and  there  was  a  patch  of 
clear  blue  sky,  and  his  eye,  practised  with  many 
a  surveying  night-tramp,  discovered  at  last  a 
twinkling  guide  by  which  to  shape  his  path  in  a 
northerly  direction.  It  was  a  wild,  rough 
country  over  which  he  passed.  With  slow  and 
careful  steps,  his  sagacious  steed  moved  on, 
obedient  to  the  rein,  at  one  time  topping  the 
crest  of  a  rugged  hill,  and  then  winding  at  a 
snail's  pace  down  the  steep  declivity,  or  follow- 
ing the  tortuous  course  of  the  streamlet  through 
deep  ravines,  whose  jagged  and  bush- clad  sides 
frowned  down  upon  them  on  either  side,  deepen- 
ing the  gloom  of  night. 

12* 


274  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

So  all  through  the  long  hours  of  darkness, 
Harold  toiled  on  his  lonely  way,  startled  at 
times  by  the  shriek  of  the  night  bird,  and 
listening  intently  to  catch  the  sign  of  danger. 
At  last  the  dawn,  welcome  although  it  en- 
hanced the  chances  of  detection,  blushed  faintly 
through  the  clouded  eastern  sky,  and  Harold, 
through  the  mists  of  morning,  could  see  a  fair 
and  rolling  landscape  stretched  before  him.  The 
sky  was  overcast,  and  presently  the  heavy  drops 
began  to  fall.  Consulting  the  little  friendly 
compass  which  Oriana  had  given  him,  he  pushed 
on  briskly,  turning  always  to  the  right  or  left,  as 
the  smoke,  circling  from  some  early  housewife's 
kitchen,  betrayed  the  dangerous  neighborhood"" 
of  a  human  habitation. 

Crossing  a  rivulet,  he  dismounted,  and  filled  a 
small  leathern  bottle  that  he  carried  with  him, 
his  good  steed  and  himself  meanwhile  satisfying 
their  thirst  from  the  cool  wave.  His  appetite, 
freshened  by  exercise,  caused  him  to  remember 
a  package  which  Oriana's  forethought  had  pro- 
vided for  him  on  the  preceding  afternoon.  He 
drew  it  from  his  pocket,  and  while  his  steed 
clipped  the  tender  herbage  from  the  streamlet's 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION. 


tiTo 


bank,  lie  made  an  excellent  breakfast  of  the 
corn  bread  and  bacon,  and  other  substantial 
edibles,  which  his  kind  friend  had  bountifully 
supplied.  Man  and  horse  thus  refreshed,  he 
remounted,  and  rode  forward  at  a  gallant  pace, 
the  strong  animal  he  bestrode  seeming  as  yet  to 
show  no  signs  of  fatigue. 

The  rain  was  now  falling  in  torrents,  a  propi- 
tious circumstance,  since  it  lessened  the  probabi- 
lities of  his  encountering  the  neighboring  inhab- 
itants, most  of  whom  must  have  sought  shelter 
from  the  pelting  storm.  He  occasionally  came 
up  with  a  trudging  negro,  sometimes  a  group  of 
three  or  four,  who  answered  timidly  whenever 
he  accosted  them,  and  glanced  at  him  askance, 
but  yet  gave  the  iuformation  he  requested. 
Once,  indeed,  he  could  discern  a  troop  of  cavalry 
plashing  along  at  some  distance  through  the 
muddy  road,  but  he  screened  himself  in  a  corn- 
field, and  was  unobserved.  His  watch  had  been 
injured  in  tlie  battle,  and  he  had  no  means,  ex- 
cept conjecture,  of  judging  of  the  hour ;  but 
by  the  flagging  pace  of  his  horse^  and  his  ov\u 
fatigue,  he  knew  that  he  must  have  been  many 
hours  in  the  saddle.     Surely  the  Potomac  must 


276  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

be  at  hand  !  Yet  there  was  no  sign  of  it,  and 
over  interminable  hill  and  dale,  through  corn- 
fields, and  over  patches  of  woodland  and  mea- 
dow, the  wearj  steed  was  urged  on,  slipping 
and  sliding  in  the  saturated  soil.  What  was 
that  sound  which  caused  his  horse  to  prick  up 
his  ears  and  quicken  his  pace  with  the  instinct 
of  danger  ?  He  heard  it  himself  distinctly.  It 
was  the  baying  of  a  bloodhound. 

"  They  are  on  my  track  !"  muttered  Harold  ; 
"  and  unless  the  river  is  at  hand,  I  am  lost. 
Forward,  sir !  forward,  good  fellow!"  he  shouted 
cheerily  to  his  horse,  and  the  noble  animal, 
snorting  and  tossing  his  silken  mane,  answered 
with  an  effort,  and  broke  into  a  gallop. 

Down  one  hill  into  a  little  valley  they  pushed 
on,  and  up  the  ascent  of  another.  They 
reached  the  crest,  and  then,  thank  Heaven ! 
there  was  the  broad  river,  windino^  throudi  the 
valley.  Dull  and  leaden  hued  as  it  looked, 
reflecting  the  clouded  sky,  he  had  never  hailed 
it  so  joyfully  when  sparkling  with  sunbeams 
as  he  did  at  the  close  of  that  weary  day. 
Yet  the  danger  was  not  past ;  up  and  down 
the    stream    he    gazed,    and    far   to   the    riejht 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  277 

he  could  distinguish  a  group  of  tents  peering 
from  among  the  foliage  of  a  grove,  and  marking 
the  site  of  a  Confederate  battery.  But  just  in 
front  of  him  was  a  cheering  sight ;  an  armed 
schooner  swung  lazily  at  anchor  in  the  channel, 
and  the  wet  bunting  that  drooped  listlessly  over 
her  stern,  revealed  the  stars  and  stripes. 

Tlie  full  tones  of  the  bloodhound's  voice 
aroused  him  to  the  necessity  of  action  ;  he 
turned  in  the  saddle  and  glanced  over  the  route 
he  had  come.  On  the  crest  of  the  hill  beyond 
that  on  which  he  stood,  the  forms  of  three  horse- 
men were  outlined  against  the  greyish  sky. 
They  distinguished  him  at  the  same  moment,  for 
he  could  hear  their  shouts  of  exultation,  borne  to 
him  on  the  humid  air. 

It  was  yet  a  full  mile  to  the  river  bank,  and 
his  horse  was  almost  broken  down  with  fatigue. 
Dashing  his  armed  heels  against  the  throbbing 
flanks  of  the  jaded  animal,  he  rushed  down  the 
hill  in  a  straight  line  for  the  water.  The  sun 
was  already  below  the  horizon,  and  darkness 
was  coming  on  apace.  As  he  pushed  on,  the 
shouts  of  his  pursuers  rang  louder  upon  his  ear 
at   every  rod;    it  was   evident   that   they  were 


278  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

fresh  mounted,  \vliile  his  own  steed  was  labor- 
ing, with  a  last  effort,  over  the  rugged  ground, 
stumbling  among  stones,  and  groaning  at  inter- 
vals with  the  severity  of  exertion.  He  could 
hear  the  trampling  behind  him,  he  could  catch 
the  words  of  triumph  that  seemed  to  be  shouted 
almost  in  his  very  ear.  A  bullet  whizzed  by 
him,  and  then  another,  and  with  each  report 
there  came  a  derisive  cheer.  But  it  was  now 
quite  dark,  and  that,  with  the  rapid  motion,  ren- 
dered him  comparatively  fearless  of  being  struck. 
He  spurred  on,  straining  his  eyes  to  see  what  was 
before  him,  for  it  seemed  that  the  ground  in 
front  became  suddenly  and  curiously  lost  in 
the  mist  and  gloom.  Just  then,  simultaneously 
with  the  report  of  a  pistol,  he  felt  his  good 
steed  quiver  beneath  him  ;  a  bullet  had  reached 
his  flank,  and  the  poor  animal  fell  upon  his 
knees  and  rolled  over  in  the  agony  of  death. 

It  was  well  that  he  had  fallen ;  Harold,  thrown 
forward  a  few  feet,  touched  the  earth  upon  the 
edge  of  the  rocky  bank  that  descended  precipi- 
tously a  hundred  feet  or  more  to  the  river — a 
few  steps  further,  and  horse  and  rider  would 
have  plunged  over  the  verge  of  the  bluff.    ■ 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  279 

Harold,  though  bruised  by  his  fall,  was  not 
considerably  hurt ;  without  hesitation,  he  com- 
menced the  hazardous  descent,  difficult  by  day, 
but  perilous  and  uncertain  in  the  darkness. 
Clinging  to  each  projecting  rock  and  feeling 
cantionsly  for  a  foothold  among  the  slippery- 
ledges,  he  had  accomplished  half  the  distance 
and  could  already  hear  the  light  plashing  of  the 
wave  upon  the  boulders  below.  He  heard  a 
voice  above,  shouting  :  "  Look  out  for  the  bluff 
there,  we  must  be  near  it !" 

The  warnmg  came  too  late.  There  was  a  cry 
of  terror — the  blended  voice  of  man  and  horse, 
startling  the  night  and  causing  Harold  to  crouch 
with  instinctive  horror  close  to  the  dripping 
rock.  There  was  a  rush  of  wind  and  the  bound- 
ing by  of  a  dark  whirling  body,  which  rolled 
over  and  over,  tearing  over  the  sharp  angles  of 
the  cliff,  and  scattering  the  loose  fragments  of 
stone  over  him  as  he  clung  motionless  to  his 
support.  Then  there  was  a  dull  thump  below, 
and  a  little  afterward  a  terrible  moan,  and  then 
all  was  still. 

Harold  continued  his  descent  and  reached  the 
base  of  the  bluff  in  safety.     Tlirough  the  dark- 


280  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

ness  lie  could  see  a  dark  mass  lying  like  a  sha- 
dow among  tlie  pointed  stones,  with  the  waves 
of  the  river  rij)j)ling  about  it.  He  approached  it. 
There  lay  the  steed  gasping  in  the  last  agony, 
and  the  rider  beneath  him,  crushed,  mangled  and 
dead.  He  stooped  down  by  the  side  of  the 
corpse ;  it  was  bent  double  beneath  the  quiver- 
ing body  of  the  dying  horse,  in  such  a  manner 
as  must  have  snapped  the  spine  in  twain. 
Harold  lifted  the  head,  but  let  it  fall  again  with 
a  shudder,  for  his  fingers  had  slipped  into  the 
crevice  of  the  cleft  skull  and  were  all  smeared 
with  the  oozing  brain.  Yet,  despite  the  obscu- 
rity and  the  disfigurement,  despite  the  bui-sting 
eyeballs  and  the  clenched  jaws  through  which 
the  blood  was  trickling,  he  recognized  the  fea- 
tures of  Seth  Eawbon. 

Ko  time  for  contemplation  or  for  revery. 
There  was  a  scrambling  orerhead,  with  now  and 
then  a  snarl  and  an  angry  gi'owl.  And  further 
up,  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  labored  and 
suppressed,  as  of  men  who  were  speaking  while 
toiling  at  some  unwonted  exercise.  Harold 
threw  off  his  coat  and  boots,  and  waded  out 
into  the  river.     The  dark  hull  of  the  schooner 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  2S1 

could  be  seen  looming  above  the  gloomy  surface 
of  tlie  water,  and  lie  dashed  toward  it  tliroucrli 
the  deepening  wave.  Tliere  was  a  splash  behind 
him  and  soon  he  could  hear  tlie  puffing  and 
short  breathing  of  a  swimming  dog.  lie  was 
then  up  to  his  arm-pits  in  the  water,  and  a  few 
yards  further  would  bring  him  off  his  footing. 
He  determined  to  wait  the  onset  there,  while  he 
could  yet  stand  firm  upon  the  shelving  bottom. 
He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  bloodhound 
made  directly  for  him  ;  he  could  see  his  eyes 
snapping  and  glaring  like  red  coals  above  the 
black  water.  Harold  braced  himself  as  well  as 
he  could  upon  the  yielding  sand,  and  held  his 
poignard,  Oriana's  welcome  gift,  with  a  steady 
grasp.  The  dog  came  so  close  that  his  fetid 
breath  played  upon  Harold's  cheek  ;  then  he 
aimed  a  swift  blow  at  his  neck,  but  tlie  brute 
dodged  it  like  a  fish.  Harold  lost  his  balance 
and  fell  forward  into  the  water,  but  in  tailing, 
he  launched  out  his  left  hand  and  caught  the 
tough  loose  skin  above  the  animal's  shoulder. 
He  held  it  with  the  grasp  of  a  drowning  man, 
and  over  and  over  they  rolled  in  the  water,  like 
two  sea  monsters  at  their  sport.     With   all  his 


282  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

strength,  Harold  drew  the  fierce  brute  toward 
him,  circling  his  neck  tightly  with  his  left  arm, 
and  pressed  the  sharp  blade  against  his  throat. 
The  hot  blood  gushed  out  over  his  hand,  but  he 
drove  the  weapon  deeper,  slitting  the  sinewy 
flesh  to  the  right  and  left,  till  the  dog  ceased  to 
struggle.  Then  Harold  flung  the  huge  carcass 
from  him,  and  struck  out,  breathless  as  he  was, 
for  the  schooner.  It  was  time,  for  already  his 
pursuers  were  upon  the  bank,  aiming  their  pistol 
shots  at  the  black  spot  which  they  could  just 
distinguish  cleaving  through  the  water.  But 
a  few  vigorous  strokes  carried  him  beyond  their 
vision  and  they  ceased  firing.  Soon  he  heard  the 
sound  of  mufiled  oars  and  a  dark  shape  seemed 
to  rise  from  the  water  in  front  of  him.  The 
watch  on  board  the  schooner,  alarmed  by  the 
firing,  had  sent  a  boat^s  crew  to  reconnoitre. 
Harold  divined  that  it  was  so,  and  hailing  the 
approaching  boat,  was  taken  in,  and  ten  minutes 
afterward,  stood,  exhausted  but  safe,  upon  the 
schooner's  deck. 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  283 


CHAPTEK  XXIX 

With  the  earliest  opportunity,  Harold  pro- 
ceeded to  Washington,  and  sought  an  interview 
with  the  President,  in  relation  to  Arthur's  case. 
Mr.  Lincoln  received  him  kindly,  but  could  give 
no  information  respecting  the  arrest  or  alleged 
criminality  of  his  friend.  "  There  were  so  many 
and  pressing  affairs  of  state  that  he  could  find 
no  room  for  individual  cases  in  his  memory." 
However,  he  referred  him  to  the  Secretary  of 
War,  with  a  request  that  the  latter  would  look 
into  the  matter.  By  dint  of  persistent  inquiries 
at  various  sources,  Harold  finally  ascertained 
that  the  prisoner  had  a  few  days  previously  been 
released,  upon  the  assurance  of  the  surgeon  at 
the  fort,  that  his  failing  health  required  his  im- 
mediate removal.  Inquiry  had  been  made  into 
the  circumstances  leading  to  his  arrest ;  made 
too  late,  however,  to  benefit  the  victim  of  a  State 
mistake,  whose  delicate  health  had  already  been 
too  severely  tried  by  the  discomforts  attendant 


284  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

upon  his  situation.  However,  enougli  had  been 
ascertained  to  leave  but  little  doubt  as  to  his  inno- 
cence ;  and  Arthur,  with  the  ghastly  signs  of  a 
rapid  consumption  upon  his  wan  cheek,  was  dis- 
missed from  the  portals  of  a  prison,  which  had 
already  prepared  him  for  the  tomb. 

Harold  hastened  to  Vermont,  whither  he  knew 
the  invalid  had  been  conveyed.  It  was  toward 
the  close  of  the  first  autumn  day  that  he  entered 
the  little  village,  upon  whose  outskirts  was  situ- 
ated the  farm  of  his  dying  friend.  The  air  was 
mild  and  balmy,  but  the  voices  of  nature  seemed 
to  him  more  hushed  than  usual,  as  if  in  mournful 
unison  with  his  own  sad  reveries.  He  had  passed 
on  foot  from  the  village  to  the  farm-house, 
and  when  he  opened  the  little  white  wicket,  and 
walked  along  the  gravelled  avenue  that  led  to 
the  flower-clad  porch,  the  willows  on  either  side 
seemed  to  droop  lower  than  willows  are  used  to 
droop,  and  the  soft  September  air  sighed  through 
the  swinging  boughs,  like  the  prelude  of  a  dirge. 

Arthur  was  reclining  upon  an  easy-chair  upon 
the  little  porch,  and  beside  him  sat  a  venerable 
lady,  readkig  from  the  worn  silver-clasped  Bible, 
which  rested  on  her  lap.     The  lady  rose  when  he 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  285 

approached ;  and  Arthur,  whose  gaze  had  been 
wandering  among  the  autumn  clouds,  that 
wreathed  the  points  of  the  far-off  mountains, 
turned  his  head  languidly,  when  the  footsteps 
broke  his  dream. 

He  did  not  rise.  Alas !  he  was  too  weak  to 
do  so  without  the  support  of  his  aged  mother's 
arm,  which  had  so  often  cradled  him  in  infancy 
and  had  now  become  the  staff  of  his  broken 
manhood.  Bat  a  beautiful  and  happy  smile 
illumined  his  pale  lips,  and  spread  all  over  the 
thin  and  wasted  features,  like  sunlight  gleaming 
on  the  grey  surface  of  a  church-yard  stone.  He 
lifted  his  attenuated  hand,  and  when  Harold 
clasped  it,  the  fingers  were  so  cold  and  death- 
like that  their  pressure  seemed  to  close  about  his 
heart,  compressing  it,  and  chilling  the  life  cur- 
rent in  his  veins. 

^'  I  knew  that  you  would  come,  Harold. 
Although  I  read  that  you  were  missing  at  the 
close  of  that  dreadful  battle,  something  told  me 
that  we  should  meet  again.  Whether  it  was  a 
sick  man's  fancy,  or  the  foresight  of  a  parting 
soul,  it  is  realized,  for  you  are  here.  And  you 
come  not  too  soon,  Harold,"  he  added,  Avith  a 


286  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

pressure  of  the  feeble  hand,  ''  for  I  am  going 
fast — fast  from  the  discords  of  earth— fast  to  the 
calm  and  harmony  beyond  !" 

"  Oh,  Arthur,  how  changed  you  are !"  said 
Harold,  who  could  not  keep  from  fastening  his 
gaze  on  the  white,  sunken  cheek  and  hollow 
eyes  of  his  dying  comrade.  "  But  you  will  get 
better  now,  will  you  not — now  that  you  are 
home  again,  and  we  can  nurse  you  ?" 

Arthur  shook  his  head  with  a  mournful  smile, 
and  the  fit  of  painful  coughing  which  overtook 
him  answered  his  friend's  vain  hope. 

"  Xo,  Harold,  no.  All  of  earth  is  past  to  me, 
even  hope.  And  I  am  ready,  cheerful  even,  to 
go,  except  for  the  sake  of  some  loved  ones  that 
will  sorrow  for  me." 

He  took  his  mother's  hand  as  he  spoke,  and 
looked  at  her  with  touching  tenderness,  while 
the  poor  dame  brushed  away  her  tears. 

"  I  have  but  a  brief  while  to  stay  behind," 
she  said,  "  and  my  sorrow  will  be  less,  to  know 
that  you  have  ever  been  a  good  son  to  me.  Oh, 
Mr.  Hare,  he  might  have  lived  to  comfort  me, 
and  close  my  old  eyes  in  death,  if  they  had  not 
been  so  cruel  with  him,  and  locked  him  within 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  287 

prison  walls.  He,  who  never  dreamed  of  wrong, 
and  never  injured  willingly  a  worm  in  liis  path." 
"  Nay,  mother,  they  were  not  unkind  to  me  in 
the  fort,  and  did  what  they  could  to  make  me 
comfortable.  But,  Harold,  it  is  wrong.  I  have 
thought  of  it  in  the  long,  weary  nights  in  prison, 
and  I  have  thought  of  it  when  I  knew  that 
death  was  beckoning  me  to  come  and  rest  from 
the  thoughts  of  earth.  It  is  wrong  to  tamper 
with  the  sacred  law  that  shields  the  citizen.  I 
believe  that  many  a  man  within  those  fortress 
walls  is  as  innocent  in  the  eyes  of  God  as  those 
who  sent  him  there.  Yet  I  accuse  none  of  will- 
ful wrong,  but  only  of  unconscious  error.  If 
the  sacrifice  of  my  poor  life  could  shed  one  ray 
upon  the  darkness,  I  would  rejoice  to  be  the  vic- 
tim that  I  am,  of  a  violated  right.  But  all, 
statesmen,  and  chieftains,  and  humble  citizens, 
are  being  swept  along  upon  the  whirlwinds  of 
passion ;  all  hearts  are  ablaze  with  the  fiery 
magnificence  of  war,  and  none  will  take  warn- 
ing till  the  land  shall  be  desolate,  and  thousands, 
stricken  in  their  prime,  shall  be  sleeping — where 
I  shall  soon  be — ^beneath  the  cold  sod.  I  am 
weary,  mother,  and  chill.     Let  us  go  in." 


288  FORT    LAi\^YETTE;    OR, 

They  bore  liim  in  and  helped  him  to  his  bed, 
where  he  lay  pale  and  silent,  seeming  much 
worse  from  the  fatigne  of  conversation  and  the 
excitement  of  his  meeting  with  his  old  college 
friend.  Mrs.  Wayne  left  him  in  charge  of 
Harold,  while  she  went  below  to  prepare  what 
little  nourishment  he  could  take,  and  to  pro^dde 
refreshment  for  her  guest. 

Arthur  lay,  for  a  space,  with  his  eyes  closed, 
and  apparently  in  sleep.  But  he  looked  up,  at 
last,  and  stretched  out  his  hand  to  Harold,  who 
pressed  the  thin  fingers,  whiter  than  the  coverlet 
on  which  they  rested. 

"  Is  mother  there  ?" 

"  Xo,  Arthur,"  replied  Harold.  "  Shall  I  call 
her?" 

"aSo.  I  thought  to  have  spoken  to  you,  to- 
morrow, of  something  that  has  been  often  my 
theme  of  thought ;  but  I  know  not  what  strange 
feeling  has  crept  upon  me ;  and  perhaps,  Harold 
— for  we  know  not  what  the  morrow  may  bring — 
perhaps  T  had  better  speak  now." 

"It  hurts  you,  Arthur;  you  are  too  weak. 
Indeed,  you  must  sleep  now,  and  to-morrow  we 
Ehall  talk." 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  289 

"  Ko ;  now,  Harold.  It  will  not  liiirt  mc,  or 
if  it  does,  it  matters  little  now.  Harold,  I  would 
fain  that  no  shadow  of  unkindness  should  linorer 
between  us  twain  when  I  am  gone." 

"  Whj  should  there,  Arthur  ?  You  have  been 
my  true  friend  always,  and  as  such  shall  I 
remember  you." 

"  Yet  have  I  ^vronged  you  ;  yet  have  I  caused 
you  much  grief  and  bitterness,  and  only  your 
own  generous  nature  preserved  us  from  estrange- 
ment.    Harold,  have  you  heard  from  he?'  .^" 

"I  have  seen  her,  Arthur.  During  my  cap- 
tivity, she  was  my  jailer ;  in  my  sickness,  for  I 
was  slightly  wounded,  she  was  my  nurse.  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  to-morrow,"  replied  Arthur,  breathing 
heavily.  "  To-morrow !  the  word  sounds  mean- 
ingless to  me,  like  something  whose  significance 
has  left  me.     Is  she  well,  Harold  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  happy?" 

"  I  think  60,  Arthur.  As  happy  as  any  of  us 
can  be,  amid  severed  ties  and  dread  uncertain- 
ties." 

"  I  am  glad  that  she  is  well.    Harold,  you  will 
18 


290  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

tell  lier,  for  I  am  sure  jou  will  meet  again,  you 
will  tell  her  it  was  mj  dying  wish  that  you  two 
should  he  united.     Will  you  promis^,  Harold  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  her  all  that  you  wish,  Arthur." 

"  I  seem  to  feel  that  I  shall  he  happy  in  my 
grave,  to  know  that  she  will  he  your  wife ;  to 
know  that  my  guilty  love — for  I  loved  her, 
Harold,  and  it  was  guilt  to  love — to  know  that  it 
left  no  poison  hehind,  that  its  shadow  has  passed 
away  from  the  path  that  you  must  tread." 

"  Speak  not  of  guilt,  my  friend.  There  could 
live  no  crime  between  two  such  noble  hearts. 
And  had  I  thought  you  would  have  accepted 
the  sacrifice,  I  could  almost  have  been  happy  to 
have  given  her  to  you,  so  much  was  her  happi- 
ness the  aim  of  my  own  love." 

"  Yes,  for  you  have  a  glorious  heart,  Harold  ; 
and  I  thank  Heaven  that  she  cannot  fail  to  love 
you.  And  you  do  not  think,  do  you,  Harold, 
that  it  would  be  wrong  for  you  two  to  speak  of 
me  when  I  am  gone  ?  I  cannot  bear  to  think 
that  you  should  deem  it  necessary  to  drive  me 
from  your  memories,  as  one  who  had  stepped  in 
between  your  hearts.  I  am  sure  she  will  love 
you  none  the  less  for  her  remembrance  of  me, 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  291 

and  therefore  sometimes  you  will  talk  together 
of  me,  will  you  not  ?" 

"Yes,  we  will  often  talk  of  you,  far  what 
dearer  theme  to  both  could  we  choose ;  what 
purer  recollections  could  our  memories  cherish 
than  of  the  friend  we  both  loved  so  much,  and 
who  so  well  deserved  our  love  ?" 

"  And  I  am  forgiven,  Harold  ?" 

"Were  there  aught  to  be  forgiven,  I  would 
forgive ;  but  I  have  never  harbored  in  my  most 
secret  heart  one  trace  of  anger  or  resentment 
toward  you.  Do  not  talk  more,  dear  Ai'thur. 
To-morrow,  perhaps,  you  will  be  stronger,  and 
then  we  will  speak  again.  Here  comes  your 
mother,  and  she  will  scold  me  for  letting  you 
fatigue  yourself  so  much." 

"Raise  me  a  little  on  the  pillow,  please.  I 
seem  to  breathe  more  heavily  to-night.  Thank 
you,  I  will  sleep  now.  Good  night,  mother ;  I 
will  eat  the  gruel  when  I  wake.  I  had  rather 
sleep  now.     Good  night,  Harold !" 

He  fell  into  a  slumber  almost  immediately, 
and  they  would  not  disturb  him,  although  his 
mother  had  prepared  the  food  he  had  been  used 
to  take. 


292  '^^^'^    LAJFAYETTE;    OR, 

"  I  think  lie  is  better  to-niglit.  He  seems  to 
sleep  more  tranquilly,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne.  "  If 
you  will  step  below,  I  liave  got  a  dish  of  tea  for 
you,  and  some  little  supper." 

Harold  went  down  and  refreshed  himself  at 
the  widow's  neat  and  hospitable  board,  and  then 
walked  out  into  the  evening,  to  dissipate,  if  pos- 
sible, the  cloud  that  was  lowering  about  his 
heart.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  avenue  of 
willows,  and  though  the  fresh  night  air  soothed 
the  fever  of  his  brain,  he  could  not  chase  away 
the  gloom  that  weighed  upon  his  spirit.  His 
mind  wandered  among  mournful  memories — 
the  field  of  battle,  strewn  with  the  dying  and 
the  dead ;  the  hospital  where  brave  suffering 
men  were  groaning  under  the  surgeon's  knife; 
the  sick  chamber,  where  his  friend  was  dying. 

"And  I,  too,"  bethought,  "have  become  the 
craftsman  of  Death,  trainiug  my  arm  and  intel- 
lect to  be  cunning  in  the  butchery  of  my  fellows ! 
Wearing  the  instrument  of  torture  at  my  side, 
and  using  the  faculties  God  gave  me  to  mutilate 
His  image.  Yet,  from  the  pulpit  and  the  states- 
man's chair,  and  far  back  through  ages  from  the 
pages  of  history,   precept    and    example   have 


LOVE    AND    SECESSION.  203 

sought  to  record  its  justification,  under  the  giant 
plea  of  necessity.  But  is  it  justified  ?  Has  man, 
in  his  enlightenment,  sufficiently  studied  to  throw 
aside  the  hereditary  errors  that  come  from  the 
past,  clothed  in  barbarous  splendors  to  mislead 
thought  and  dazzle  conscience  ?  Oh,  for  one 
glimpse  of  the  Eternal  Truth!  to  teach  us  how 
far  is  delegated  to  mortal  man  the  right  to  take 
away  the  life  he  cannot  give.  When  shall  the 
sword  be  held  accursed  ?  When  shall  man  cease 
to  meddle  with  the  most  awful  prerogative  of  his 
God?  When  shall  our  right  hands  be  cleansed 
forever  from  the  stain  of  blood,  and  homicide  be 
no  longer  a  purpose  and  a  glory  upon  earth  ?  I 
shudder  when  I  look  up  at  the  beautiful  serenity 
of  this  autumn  sky,  and  remember  that  my  deed 
has  loosened  an  immortal  soul  from  its  clay,  and 
hurled  it,  unprepared,  into  its  Maker's  presence. 
My  conscience  would  rebuke  my  hand,  should  it 
willfully  shatter  the  sculptor's  marble  wrought 
into  human  shape,  or  deface  the  artist's  ideal 
pictured  upon  canvas,  or  destroy  aught  that  is 
beautiful  and  costly  of  man's  ingenuity  and 
labor.  And  yet  these  I  might  replace  with 
emptying   a   purse   into   the    craftsman's   hand. 


201-  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

But  will  my  gold  recall  the  vital  spark  into  those 
cold  forms  that,  stricken  by  my  steel  or  bullet, 
are  rotting  in  their  graves?     The  mastei-piece 
of  God  I  have  destroyed.      His  image  have  I 
defaced;    the   wonderful    mechanism    that    He 
alone  can  mold,  and  molded  for  His  own  holy 
purpose,  have  I  shattered  and  dismembered ;  the 
soul,  an  essence  of  His   own   eternity,  have  I 
chased  from  its  alotted  earthly  home,  and  I  rely 
for  my  justification  upon — what? — the  fact  that 
my  victim  differed  from  me  in  political  belief. 
Must  the  hand  of  man  be  raised  against  the 
workmanship  of  God  because  an  earthly  bond 
has  been  sundered  ?     Our  statesmen  teach  us  so, 
the  ministers  of  our  faith  pronounce  it  just ;  but, 
oh  God !  should  it  be  wrong !     When  the  blood 
is  hot,  when  the  heart  throbs  with  exaltation, 
when  martial  music   swells,  and  the  war-steed 
prances,  and  the  bayonets  gleam  in  the  bright 
sunlight — then  I  think  not  of  the  doubt,  nor  of 
the  long  train  of  horrors,  the  tears,  the  bereave- 
ments, the  agonies,  of  which  this  martial  mag- 
nificence is  but  the  vanguard.     But  now,  in  the 
still  calmness  of  the  night,  when  all  around  me 
and  above  me  breathes  of  the  loveliness   and 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSIOX.  295 

holiness  of  peace,  I  fear.  I  question  nature, 
hushed  as  she  is  and  smiling  in  repose,  and  her 
calm  beauty  tells  me  that  Peace  is  sacred ;  that 
her  Master  sanctions  no  discords  among  His 
children.  I  question  my  own  conscience,  and  it 
tells  me  that  the  sword  wins  not  the  everlasting 
triumphr— that  the  voice  of  war  finds  no  echo 
within  the  gates  of  heaven." 

Ill-comforted  by  his  reflections,  he  returned  to 
the  quiet  dwelling,  and  entered  the  chamber  of 
his  friend. 


296  FOI^T    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 


CHAPTEK  XXX. 

The  sufferer  was  still  sleeping,  and  Mrs. 
Wayne  was  watching  hj  the  bedside.  Harold 
seated  himself  beside  her,  and  gazed  mournfully 
upon  the  pale,  still  features  that  already,  but 
for  the  expression  of  pain  that  lingered  there, 
seemed  to  have  passed  from  the  quiet  of  sleep  to 
the  deeper  calm  of  death. 

"  Each  moment  that  I  look,"  said  Mrs.  Wayne, 
wiping  her  tears  away,  "  I  seem  to  see  the  grey 
shadows  of  the  grave  stealing  over  his  brow. 
The  doctor  was  here  a  few  moments  before  you 
came.  The  minister,  too,  sat  with  him  all  the 
morning.  I  know  from  their  kind  warning  that 
I  shall  soon  be  childless.  He  has  but  a  few 
hours  to  be  with  me.  Oh,  my  son !  my 
son !" 

She  bent  her  head  upon  the  pillow,  and  wept 
silently  in  the  bitterness  of  her  heart.  Harold 
forebore  to  check  that  holy  grief ;  but  when  the 


LOVE    AND    SECESSroX.  297 

old  lady,  with  Christian  resignation,  had  recov- 
ered her  composure,  he  pressed  her  to  seek 
that  repose  which  her  aged  frame  so  much 
needed. 

"  I  will  sit  by  Arthur  while  you  rest  awhile  ; 
you  have  already  overtasked  your  strength  with 
vigil.  I  will  awake  you  should  there  be  a 
change." 

She  consented  to  lie  upon  the  sofa,  and  soon 
wept  herself  to  sleep,  for  she  was  really  quite 
broken  down  with  watching.  Everything  was 
hushed  around,  save  the  monotones  of  the  insects 
in  the  fields,  and  the  breathing  of  those  that  slept. 
If  there  is  an  hour  when  the  soul  is  lifted  above 
earth  and  communes  with  holy  things,  it  is  in 
the  stillness  of  the  country  night,  when  the 
solitary  watcher  sits  beside  the  pillow  of  a  loved 
one,  waiting  the  coming  of  the  dark  angel,  whose 
footsteps  are  at  the  threshold.  Harold  sat 
gazing  silently  at  the  face  of  the  invalid  ;  some- 
times a  feeble  smile  would  struggle  with  the 
lines  of  suffering  upon  the  pinched  and  haggard 
lineaments,  and  once  from  the  white  lips  came 
the   murmur  of  a   name,  so  low  that  only  tlie 

13* 


298  FORT    LAFAYETTE;    OR, 

solemn  stillness  made  tlie  sound  palpable — tlie 
name  of  Oriana. 

Toward  midnight,  Arthur's  breathing  became 
more  difficult  and  painful,  and  his  features 
changed  so  rapidly  that  Harold  became  fearful 
that  the  end  was  com«.  With  a  sigh,  he  stepped 
softly  to  the  sofa,  and  wakened  Mrs.  Wayne, 
taking  her  gently  by  the  hand  which  trembled 
in  his  grasp.  She  knew  that  she  was  awakened 
to  a  terrible  sorrow — that  she  was  about  to  bid 
farewell  to  the  joy  of  her  old  age.  Arthur 
opened  his  eyes,  but  the  weeping  mother  4urned 
from  them ;  she  could  not  bear  to  meet  them, 
for  already  the  glassy  film  was  veiling  the 
azure  depths  whose  light  had  been  so  often 
turned  to  her  in  tenderness. 

''  Give  me  some  air,  mother.  It  is  so  close — 
I  cannot  breathe." 

They  raised  him  upon  the  pillow,  and  his 
mother  supported  the  languid  head  upon  her 
bosom. 

"  Arthur,  my  son  !  are  you  suffering,  my  poor 
boy?" 

"Yes.  It  will  pass  away.  Do  not  grieve. 
Kiss  me,  dear  mother." 


LOVE    AXD    SECESSION.  299 

He  was  gasping  for  breath,  and  Lis  hand  was 
tightly  clasped  about  his  mother's  withered 
palm.  She  wiped  the  dampness  from  his  brow, 
mingling  her  tears  with  the  cold  dews  of 
death. 

''Is  Harold  there?' 

"Yes,  Arthur." 

"  You  will  not  forget  ?  And  you  will  love  and 
guard  her  well?" 

"  Yes,  Al-thur." 

"  Put  away  the  sword,  Harold  ;  it  is  accursed 
of  God.  Is  not  that  the  moonlight  that  streams 
upon  the  bed  ?" 

"  Yes.     Does  it  disturb  you,  Arthur?" 

"^N"©.  Let  it  come  in.  Let  it  all  come  in; 
it  seems  a  flood  of  glory." 

His  voice  grew  faint,  till  they  could  scarce 
hear  its  murmur.  His  breathing  was  less  pain- 
ful, and  the  old  smile  began  to  wreathe  about 
his  lips,  smoothing  the  lines  of  pain. 

"  Kiss  me,  dear  mother !  You  need  not  hold 
me.  I  am  well  enougli — I  am  happy,  mother. 
I  can  sleep  now." 

He*  slept  no  earthly  slumber.  As  the  sum- 
mer air  that  wafts   a  rose-leaf  from   its  stem, 


300  FORT    LAFAYETTE. 

gentlj  his  last  sigli  stole  upon  the  stillness  of  the 
night.  Harold  lifted  the  lifeless  form  from  the 
mother's  arms,  and  when  it  drooped  upon  the 
pillow,  he  turned  away,  that  the  parent  might 
close  the  lids  of  the  dead  son. 


THE    END, 


CARLETOIT,    PUBLISHER, 

(LATE  EUDD   &  CAELETOX,) 

413    Broadway, 
NEW      YORK. 


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Teach  us  to  Pray. 
A  new  devotional  work  on  The  Lord's  Prayer,  by  Rev.  John 
Cumming,  D.D.,  author  "  The  Great  Tribulation,"  etc.,  $1.00. 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED 


Iiove  (li^Amour), 

A  remarkable  and  celebrated  volume  on  Love,  translated  from 
the  French  of  M.  J.  Michelet,  by  Dr.  J.  W.  Palmer,     $i.oo. 

"Woman  (I^a  Femme). 
A  continuation  of  *'  Love  (L'Amour),"  by  same  author,  $1.00. 

Tlie  Sea  (L,a  Mer). 
New  work  by  Michelet,  author  "  Love"  and  "  Woman,"  $1.00. 

The  Moral  History  of  Women. 
Companion  to  Michelec's  '*  L'Amour,"  from  the  French,  81.00. 

Motlier  Goose  for  GroTvn  Folks. 
A  brochure  of  humorous  and  satirical  rhymes  for  old  folks,  based 
upon  the  famous  "  Mother  Goose  Melodies,"  illustrated,  75  cts. 

Tlie  Adventures  of  Verdant  Green. 
A  rollicking  humorous  novel  of  English  College  life  and  expe- 
riences at  Oxford  University,  with  nearly  200  illus.,       $1.00. 

Tlie  Old  ITIercliants  of  New  York. 
Being  entertaining  reminiscences  and   recollections   of  ancient 
mercantile  New  York  City,  by  **  Walter  Barrett,  clerk,"  $1.50. 

The  Culprit  Fay. 
Joseph  Rodman  Drake's  faery  poem,  elegantly  printed,      50  cts. 

Doctor  Antonio. 
One  of  the  very  best  love-tales  of  Italian  life  ever  published, 
by  G.  RufEni,  author  of  "Lorenzo  Benoni,"  etc.,  etc.,  $1.25. 

liavinia. 
A  new  love-story,  by  the  author  of  "Doctor  Antonio,"  $1.25. 

Dear  Experience. 
An  amusing  Parisian  novel,  by  author  "  Doctor  Antonio,"  $  1 .00. 

The  liife  of  Alexander  Von  Humboldt. 
A  new  and  popular  biography  of  this  savant,  including  his 
travels  and  labors,  with  an  introduction  by  Bayard  Taylor,  81.25. 

The  Private  Correspondence  of  Von  HEumholdt 
With  Varnhagen  VonEnseand  other  European  celebrities,^  1.25. 

Artemus  IVard. 
The  best  writings  of  this  humorous  author — illustrations,  $1.00. 

Beatrice  Cencl. 
An  historical  novel  by  F.  D.  Guerrazzi,  from  the  Italian,  81.25. 

Isabella  Orsinl. 
An  historical  novel  by  the  author  of  "  Beatrice  Cenci,"  $1.25. 

The  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry. 
A  new  theological  work  by  Isaac  Taylor,  author  "  History  of 
Enthusiasm,"  etc. — introduction  by  Wm.  Adams  DJ).,  $2.00. 


BY  CARLEYON,  NEW  YORK. 


Cesar  Birotteau, 

The  first  of  a  scries  of  selections  from  the  best  French  novels  of 
Honore  de  Balzac.  Translated  from  the  latest  Paris  editions  by 
O.  W.  Wight  and  Frank  B.Goodrich  ("  Dick  Tinto"),  $1.00. 

Petty  Annoyanecs  of  Married  Life. 
The  second  of  the  series  of  Balzac's  best  French  novels,  $1.00. 

Tlie  Alcliemist. 
The  third  of  the  series  of  Balzac's  best  French  novels,  $1.00. 

Engeuie  Grandet. 

The  fourth  of  the  series  of  Balzac's  best  French  novels,  81.00. 
The  National  School  for  the  Soldier. 

An  elementary  work  for  the  soldier  ;  teaching  by  questions  and 
answers,  thorough  military  tactics,  by  Capt.  Van  Ness,  50  cts. 

The  Partisan  Leader. 
The  notorious  Disunion  novel,  published   at   the  South  many 
years  ago — then  suppressed — now  reprinted,  2  vols,  in  1,  81.00. 

A  Woman's  thoughts  about  Women. 
A  new  and  one  of  her  best  works,  by  Miss  Mulock,  author  of 
*'  John  Halifax,  Gentleman,"  "A  Life  for  a  Life,"  etc.,  $1.00. 

Ballad  of  Babie  Bell. 
Together  with  other  poems  by  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich,  75  cts. 

The  Course  of  True  Love 
Never  did  run  smooth,  a  poem  by  Thomas  B.  Aldrich,  50  cts. 

Poems  of  a  Year. 

By  Thomas  B.  Aldrich,  author  of  "  Babie  Bell,"  &c.,     75  cts. 

Curiosities  of  Natural  History. 

An  entertaining  and  gossiping  volume  on  beasts,  birds,  and 
fishes,  by  F.  T.  Buckland  ;  two  series,  ea.  sold  separately,  $1.25, 

The  Diamond  Wedding. 
And  other  miscellaneous  poems,  by  Edmund C.  Stedman,  75  cts. 

The   Prince's  Ball. 
A  satirical  poem  by  E.  C.  Stedman,  with  illustrations,    50  cts. 

A  Life  of  Hugh  Miller. 
Author  of  "  Testimony  of  the  Rocks,"  &c.,  new  edition,  $1.25. 

Eric;  or,  Little  by  Little. 
A  capital  tale  of  English  school-life,  by  F.  W.  Farrar,   $1.00. 

Lola  Montcz. 
Her  lectures  and  autobiography,  steel  portrait,  new  ed.,  81.25. 

.Spots  on  the  Sun. 
Or;  The  Plumb-Line:  papers,  by  Rev.  T.  M.  Hopkins,  81.00 


6  LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED 

Toutt  Titldlei-'s  Ground. 

Charles  Dickens's  Christmas  Stoiy  for  1861,  paper  cover,  25  cts. 

National  Slyuitis. 
An  essay  by  Richard  Grant  White.       8vo.  embelhshed,  $1.00. 

George  Brimley. 

Literary  essays  reprinted  from  the  British  Quarterhes,      $1.25. 

The  Relly's  and  tlie  O'Kelly's. 

Novel  by  Anthony  Trollope,  author  of  '*  Doctor  Thorne,"  $1.25. 
General    Natlianiel   L.yon. 

The  life  and  pohtical  writings  of  this  patriot  soldier,        $1.00. 

Twenty  Years  Around  tlie  World. 

A  volume  of  travel  by  John  G.  Vassar,  Poughkeepsie,     $2.50. 

Pliilip  Tlxaxter. 

A  new  American  novel,  one  vol.  i2mo.,  cloth  bound,      $1.00. 

Nothing  to  Wear. 
A  satirical  poem  by  Wm.  A.  Butler,  with  illustrations,    50  cts. 

Political  History  oi  NeTr  York. 
By  Jabez  B.  Hammond,  LL.D.,  3  vols,  steel  portraits,     $6.00. 

Vernon  Grove. 
A  novel  by  Mrs.  Caroline  H.  Glover,  Charleston,  S.  C,  $1.00. 

The  Book  of  Chess  Iiitorature. 
A  complete  Encyclopaedia  of  this  subject,  byD.  W.  Fiske,  $1.50. 

From  Haytime  to  Hopping. 
A  novel  by  the  author  of*  Our  Farm  of  Four  Acres,"  $1.00. 

Miles  Standish,  Illustrated. 
Longfellow's  poem  with  illustrations  by  J.  W.  Ehninger,  $6.00. 

The  Afternoon  of  Unmarried  Life. 
An  interesting  theme  admirably  treated,  new  edition,      $1.25. 

Fast  Day  Sermons 
Of  1 86 1,  the  best  Sermons  by  the  prominent  Divines,    $1.25. 

A  Guide  to  W^ashington. 
A  complete  hand-book  for  the  National  Capitol,  illus.,    $1.00. 

Doesticks'  Letters. 
The  original  letters  of  this  great  humorist,  illustrated,      $1.25. 

Flu-ri-bus-tah. 
A  comic  history  of  America,  by  "Doesticks,"  illus.,        $1.25. 

The  Elephant  Club. 
A  humorous  view  of  club-life,  by  "Doesticks,"  illus.,      $1.25. 

The  Witches  of  New  York. 
Comic  adventures  among  fortune  tellers,  by  **  Doesticks,"    $1.25. 


BY  CARLETOK,  NEW  YORK. 


Fort    Liafayette. 

A  novel  by  the  Hon.  Benjamin  Wood  of  New  York,     $i.oo. 
Tlie  Mexican  Papers. 

In  five  separate  parts;  by  Edward  E.  Dunbar,  per  set,  $1.00. 

Debt  and  Grace. 

The  Doctrine  of  a  Future  Life  by  Rev.  C.  F.  Hudson,  $1.25. 

Tlicssalouica. 

Or;   the  model  church,  by  H.  L.  Hastings,  izmo.,  75  cts. 

Pcenis  by  E:.  G.  Holland. 

Niagara,  and  other  poems;  in  blue  and  gold  binding,      75  cts. 
"Wild  Southern  Scenes. 

A  tale,  by  the  author  of  *' Wild  Western  Scenes,"  81.25. 

Sybelle 

And  other  poems  by  L ,  blue  and  gold  binding,       75  cts. 

The  Spuytenduyvil  Chronicle. 

A  novel  of  fashionable  life  and  society  in  New  York,      75  cts. 

Ballads  of  the  War. 

A  collection  of  poems  for  1861,  by  George  W.  Hewes,  75  cts. 

Hartley  Norman. 

A  new  and  striking  American  novel;  one  large  izmo.,  $1.25. 

The   Vagabond. 

Sketches  on  Hterature,  art,  and  society,  by  Adam  Badeau,  $1.00. 

£:nteline  Sherman  Smith. 
A  collection  of  selected  poems,  large  octavo,  elegant,      $2.00. 

£dgar  Poe  and  his  Critics. 
A  literary  critique  by  Mrs.  Sarah  Helen  Whitman,         75  cts. 

The  Ne-w  and  the  Old. 
Sketches  in  California  and  India,  by  Dr.  J.  W.  Palmer,  $1.25. 

Up  and  Down  the  Irrawaddi. 
Adventures  in  the  Burman  Empire,  by  J.  W.  Palmer,      $1.00. 

Sarah  Gould. 
A  volume  of  miscellaneous  poems,  in  blue  and  gold,       75  cts. 

Cosmogony  ; 
Or,  the  mysteries  of  creation,  by  Thomas  A.  Davies,     $1.50. 

An  Answer  to  Hugh  ITIiller 
And  other  kindred  geologists,  by  Thomas  A.  Davies,      $1.25. 

Walter  Ashwood. 
A  novel  by  *'  Palu  Siogvolk,"  author  of  "  Schediasms,"  $1.00. 

South'w^old. 
A  new  society  novel  by  Mrs.  Lillie  Devereux  Umsted,   $1.00. 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  PUBLISHED 


Bro^vn's  Tarpenter's  Assistant. 

A  practical  work  on  architecture,  with  plans,  large  4to.,  $:;.oo. 

Two  Hays  to  ^Vedlocli. 
A  novelette  reprinted  from  the  X.  Y.  Home  Journal,       $i.oc. 

A  Tribute  to  Kane, 
And  other  poems,  by  Geo.  W.  Chapman,  Milwaukee,  75  cts. 

Etiiel's  liove  Life. 
A  lo\'e-story  by  Mrs.  Margaret  J.  M.  Sweat,  Portland,  81.00. 

Recollections  of  the  Revolation. 
A  private  journal  and  diary  of  1776,  by  Sidney  Barclay,  Si. 00. 

Poems  by  FlasU. 
A  collection  of  poems  by  Henry  L.  Flash,  Mobile,         75  cts. 

Romance  of  a  Poor  Young  Man. 
A  capital  novel  from  the  French  of  Octave  Feuillet,        $1.00. 

A  New  Monetary  System. 
Or;  rights  of  labor  and  property,  by  Edward  Kellogg,  $1.00. 

Tl^a-TYa-TTanda. 
A  legend  of  old  Orange  County,  New  York,  in  verse,  75  cts. 

Flirtation 
And  what  comes  of  it.     A  play,  by  Frank  B.  Goodrich,  25  cts. 

Rlauclie. 
A  legend  in  verse,  by  Sarah  W.  Brooks,  Providence,       50  cts. 

Husband  vs.  "Wife, 

A  satirical  poem,  by  Henry  Clapp,  Jr.,  illus.  by  Hoppin,  60  cts. 

Roumania. 
Travels  in  Eastern  Europe  by  J.  O.  Noyes,  illustrated,  $1.50. 

Tlie  Christmas  Tree. 
A  volume  of  miscellany  for  the  young,  with  illustrations,  75  cts. 

The  Captive  IVightingale. 
A  charming  little  book  for  children,  many  illustrations,    75  cts. 

Sunshine  through  the  Clouds. 
Comprising  stories  for  juveniles,  beautifully  illustrated,  75  cts. 

Abraham  Lincoln. 
A  popular  life  of  Lincoln  and  Hamlin,  pamphlet,  25  cts. 

John  C.  Fremont. 
A  popular  life  of  Fremont  and  Dayton,  pamphlet,         25  cts. 

James   Suchanan. 
A  popular  life  of  Buchanan  and  Breckenridge,  pamphlet,  25  cts. 

John  Bell. 
A  popular  life  of  Bell  and  Everett,  pamphlet  covers,      25  cts. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
1181 


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